


Is That Your Zebra?

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Burns, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fire, Flashbacks, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Missing Persons, Mystery, Nightmares, Original Character Death(s), Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Repressed Memories, Thunder and Lightning, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: John, Freddie, Brian and Roger go to spend the summer helping Crystal renovate the house he has inherited.Crystal and Roger grow closer as they find out more about the tragedies in each other's pasts.
Relationships: Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	Is That Your Zebra?

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "Is That Your Zebra?" by Sam Phillips.

“I was expecting work horses not zebras,” Crystal snorted not caring if the new arrivals heard him, “Industrious little sparrows,” he continued looking sourly at the newcomers, “not these parrots and flamingos.”

The tall skinny one with the dark curls looked offended. Flamingo, Crystal thought. The soulful looking one suddenly looked furious. There might be some hope for him. The little one with the glossy dark hair looked indignant. He was wearing a yellow jacket and white trousers and Crystal doubted he’d be happy if they got dirty. The little blond looked like he was trying not to be sick. From the stains on his clothes he had evidently lost at least one battle with his stomach previously.

Crystal was surprised when it was the green-faced blond who spoke, “Canaries worked down mines,” he croaked. He had an unexpectedly raspy voice, perhaps because he had been vomiting. He suddenly bent over and vomited again. Puking back up water he had drunk earlier by the looks of things. The contents of his stomach splashed onto his boots and jeans which were already sporting the stains from when he had voided his stomach previously. He gulped as he straightened up, looking as if he might cry. 

Phoebe shot Crystal a reproachful look and stepped forward to wrap his arm around Canary’s thin shoulders. “Let’s get you sorted out,” he suggested kindly. Canary blushed. 

Crystal cleared his throat. “Three of you,” he gestured towards Flamingo, Soulful and Glossy Hair, “will be sharing a room.” He glanced at Phoebe, “Canary can bunk in with me,” he stated, turning round and stalking off before anyone could object or start bothering him with details. He needed to nurse his disappointment. A treacherous little voice in his head cheerfully piped up that he wanted to sulk in peace and he batted it away.

He was not sulking. He was disappointed. He’d hoped the people – the only people – who had answered his advertisement for help restoring the old house would have been...Better. He had wanted people with a bit of muscle who looked like they could use tools – people who looked useful. This lot looked like they would be tremendous if you wanted to go to a nightclub but would regard you with a blank expression if you asked them to wield a screwdriver.

Crystal sighed. They would almost certainly leave within a week. It wouldn’t be for long. The treacherous voice in his head was cheerfully wondering if he had finished having his little tantrum. He scowled although the voice in his head could not see his scowl. A sense of guilt started to seep in to replace the bitter disappointment as he realised he had left Phoebe and Miami to deal with the arrival of the “workforce”. He swung around and stormed back towards the house.

The battered van the four London zebras had arrived in seemed to have been abandoned with the door open. Crystal could tell why as he approached, wrinkling his nose as the smell of vomit assaulted it. Apparently Canary had at some point spewed all over the foot-well of the front passenger seat. There were crumpled stained paper napkins strewn across the floor. Crystal sighed. They needed help to repair the house not a helpless little songbird to take care of. 

As he entered the house he listened carefully but could not hear any sounds of activity although presumably everyone was in here somewhere. He felt a little thrill of pleasure that the house was large enough to absorb six adult males soundlessly. He headed for the kitchen so he could clean their van and feel smug and martyred – forcing them into his debt by bestowing this unasked for favour on them.

The kitchen was deserted too. Crystal filled two buckets with hot soapy water and grabbed a selection of cleaning rags then returned to the van. He took out some of his annoyance and disappointment on the upholstery of the car seat and then the rubber foot mat and the carpet on the passenger side of the car.

He sat back on his heels wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm. It was a hot day. He started as a voice behind him hesitantly said, “Oh, thank you for doing that.” Scrambling to his feet and turning round he found Glossy Hair behind him.

Glossy Hair gestured towards the rear of the van. “I was just going to grab our bags,” he ventured. He sounded a bit unsure as if Crystal might forbid him to remove his own possessions from his own van.

“Freddie,” a voice called. Crystal glanced over and saw Soulful leave the house and jog towards them, “Get Rog’s stuff first. He’ll need to change.” He halted, his sharp gaze taking in Crystal and the buckets of now dirty water. “Thank you,” he said, straightening up as if he expected Crystal to pick a fight with him over his gratitude. He looked uncertain too. “I’m John,” he offered. “John Deacon.”

Crystal nodded. “And I’m Freddie,” Glossy Hair informed him. “Freddie Mercury,” he added. He had pulled open the back doors of the van. Crystal and John joined him. Crystal had thought they might have a huge amount of luggage but in fact he was confronted by four rucksacks and three guitar cases. 

John swung one rucksack onto his back and lifted another. Crystal and Freddie both swung bags onto their backs too. “We can get the guitars later,” John decided.

They trooped back into the house in silence. John led the way up the polished wooden staircase – Crystal’s pride and joy – as if he had lived there all his life. He led the way confidently to the room Crystal had earmarked for three of them to sleep in. It had an adjoining bathroom which Miami was showing to Flamingo when they entered. 

Miami smiled at Crystal. “Chris, this is Brian,” he indicated Flamingo, “John,” he nodded towards John, “And Freddie.”

Crystal nodded. “I’m Crystal,” he told them, “Chris Taylor but everyone calls me Crystal.” They had all set their bags down on the floor. “Which one of these belongs to Canary?” he asked, “I’ll take it to my room.”

“His name is Roger,” Flamingo told him icily.

Crystal waited silently and slightly impatiently, glaring at Flamingo. John indicated one of the bags. “That one belongs to Rog,” he told Crystal softly. 

“He gets travel sick,” Freddie informed him, sounding slightly anxious, “He couldn’t help it.”

Crystal lifted Canary Roger’s bag and left the room without bothering to reply. He knew he was being rude but he was still trying to deal with the waves of bitter disappointment crashing over him and since they looked incapable of making his life any better he didn’t see why he should make their lives more comfortable. 

He stormed up to the next floor and to his own room which also had an adjoining bathroom. Phoebe was standing by the window. Crystal could hear water running in the bathroom. Phoebe turned around as he entered. Crystal hefted the bag. “His stuff,” he declared, jerking his head towards the bathroom as if there could be any doubt about whose stuff he meant.

Phoebe smiled at him. He crossed the room and knocked gently on the bathroom door. “Roger,” he called softly, “Your bag’s here.”

The bathroom door opened a crack and Canary’s mop of now wet from the shower tangled blond hair appeared, his big blue eyes peering through it. He looked as if he had been crying. “Thank you,” he rasped then noted Crystal, “Oh, hi, thanks,” he gabbled. 

Crystal aimed a curt nod at him and swiftly left the room, hurtling downstairs, keen to get back to finishing cleaning their van – an unpleasant but straightforward task that didn’t involve any interaction with people. He was not, he thought, capable of interactions with people just now. 

*

Crystal tipped the buckets of now filthy water onto the driveway sluicing the little puddle of watery vomit Canary had left there. He had company again, he noted – Miami and Brian were descending upon him.

Miami smiled at him. “We’re just getting the boys’ guitars,” he explained. “Brian and his dad built his, isn’t that amazing? John built an amp too. John’s an electrical engineer,” Miami added, “He says he’ll take a look at the wiring for us.”

Crystal stared at him for a moment then let out a little bark of laughter. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Brian had moved away and was extracting a guitar case from the van. “I think they will be of more use than you think,” Miami told him quietly. “Freddie’s an artist. He’s interested in painting murals on the finished walls, if you’d like.”

Crystal thought he might like that. “What about the sick Canary?” he asked. 

“I haven’t met Roger properly yet,” Miami said with a reproachful look, “but the others all seem very fond of him.”

Miami sounded slightly disapproving and Crystal sighed. “Sorry,” he offered.

“It’s not me you need to apologise to,” Miami noted. 

Crystal shrugged. “I’ll try to be nicer,” he muttered, “but that’ll have to do.” There was no way he was apologising. He was cheered by the thought that if they did turn out to be utterly useless he could legitimately refuse to pay them. 

*

“The house seems to be in pretty good shape,” John noted as they sat around the large wooden kitchen table eating vegetable lasagne Phoebe had made. Flamingo was vegetarian apparently and Crystal thought darkly that if he had known that before he had hired them he could have avoided this whole fiasco. Then he remembered that these were the only people who had answered his advert. Only these pretty birds wanted to help restore an ancient house in the middle of nowhere.

“The structural work is pretty much finished,” Miami agreed. “Crystal got professional builders to do the tricky bits of that although he has done a lot of the restoration on his own,” he noted. “We would be very grateful for your help with the electrics though.”

John nodded, his eyes gleaming, “I’d be delighted,” he said, sounding genuinely happy at the thought.

“All the rooms still need to be painted,” Phoebe noted, glancing at Freddie, “Which I believe you have some ideas about?”

Freddie nodded enthusiastically. “Amazing spaces,” he gushed, “The light is very good too,” he added.

His enthusiasm was infectious and Crystal thought about how the rooms would look adorned with the designs Freddie was proposing. He was surprised, and slightly touched, to find that Freddie had brought with him his collection of sample paints to use in order to keep costs down. He felt a little spike of guilt jab him and wondered if he had misjudged them. 

“We need a hand restoring the perimeter wall too,” Miami said, “Crystal and I have started that too but there’s a lot of it.”

“Roger can help with that,” John suggested, “He’s stronger than he looks,” he added.

The little blond looked up and stuck his tongue out at John. He had been very quiet, Crystal thought and hadn’t eaten much. Crystal wondered if he still felt ill. 

They all helped to clear away dishes and do the washing up. Brian declared that it would help them get to know their way around the kitchen. 

Since there was an abundance of people helping and Crystal had frankly had enough of people he wandered out of the kitchen through the little utility room and porch and into the garden. He lit a cigarette and perched on the edge of the stone bench some long ago owner of the house had set down here. Crystal liked to think this unknown person had also been a smoker and had appreciated the view downhill towards the sea. 

The high crumbling garden wall had a door that gave access to the beach just beyond it. The proximity to the sea had been one of the things that had caused him to fall in love with the house. It had been one of the deciding factors that led to him stubbornly staying here and doing it up instead of selling the land to the man who had approached him wishing to knock down the house and build a little complex of holiday chalets in place of it. Crystal supposed it was very selfish of him to deny all of those holidaymakers access to his view and his beach but he didn’t care.

It was not his beach he supposed, although few people ventured this far along it. He was on nodding terms now with those who did and he knew the names of their dogs – Shadow and Betsy – Sherry and Caspar. He should get a dog, he thought. The dogs appreciated the beach.

It was mostly his beach though. And this view was his alone.

Well, his and Miami and Phoebe’s. And now the London pretty birds would have access to his view for a week or two. He was slightly surprised to find that he now thought they might last longer than a week. 

That meant he might have to share his room with the pretty Canary for more than a week. He shrugged. If the Canary was too much trouble he would simply have the bed moved elsewhere. One of the attic rooms perhaps. It wouldn’t be very nice for the little bird but that didn’t matter to Crystal. 

*

“You spend a long time preening your feathers, little Canary,” Crystal said sourly when Roger finally emerged from the bathroom.

Roger grinned at him. “Us songbirds always like to look our best,” he laughed. 

He was wearing blue and white striped cotton pyjamas and he looked almost unbelievably pretty, Crystal thought, with his golden hair loose framing his lovely face. He looked like he had stepped out of a painting of fairy-land – a not quite human ethereal creature come to life. 

Crystal entered the steamy bathroom crossly. It smelt nice – whatever products the little Canary had used were sweetly scented. 

When he returned to their room – his room – the Canary was in bed. He peeked sleepily up at Crystal and mumbled, “Sweet dreams.”

*

Crystal was jolted out of sleep with a start. He realised the Canary was making unhappy noises in his sleep. Perhaps, instead of grunting at Roger when he had wished Crystal sweet dreams Crystal should have returned the sentiment and then he might have been able to enjoy a decent night’s kip.

Roger was thrashing about now and mumbling – mainly the word ‘no’ interspersed with some disturbing ‘please don’ts’. “C’m’ on, wake up,” Crystal muttered irritably. Really, the Canary would have to be banished to one of the attic rooms, he thought. The annoying chirpy little voice in his head noted this would mean Roger would have nightmares all alone. “He doesn’t know I’m here anyway,” he pointed out. And now he was talking to himself.

Roger gasped. He made a distressed sound. “You’re at World’s End House,” Crystal said gruffly, feeling stupid in case Roger was either still asleep or was actually well aware of that fact. 

“Sorry,” Roger gulped, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He slipped out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, with a wordless look at the wreckage of his bed – most of the covers were now on the floor. 

Crystal turned on the bedside lamp and slid out of bed. He was still sorting Roger’s bedding when Roger returned from the bathroom. “Oh, you shouldn’t have...Thank you...” Roger gabbled. “I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

Crystal held up the covers and motioned to Roger to get back into bed. “If you were actually a canary covering your cage would shut you up,” he grumbled, tucking the covers around Roger.

Roger managed a brief smile. “You wouldn’t cage me, would you?” he mumbled sleepily. 

Crystal thought Roger drifted back off to sleep far faster than he did and he allowed himself to begrudge Roger this extra sleep when the noisy little shit had been the one to waken Crystal in the first place. He thought shifting Roger to one of the attic rooms would be like a punishment – like trapping a bird in a cage and he sighed. He hoped the nightmares had been a one-time occurrence – maybe because Roger was in an unfamiliar place.

*

Roger looked annoyingly fresh-faced at the breakfast table. Crystal glowered at him as he made a cup of tea. They were alone in the kitchen, up slightly before the rest of the house. Sun was streaming through the kitchen windows and Crystal thought it looked like it would be another warm day. 

Roger looked up and sang out a cheery good morning as the others trooped in. They all looked disgustingly fresh-faced too. Crystal had evidently chosen the wrong brightly coloured bird to invite into his nest.

“Good morning, darling,” Freddie greeted Roger, “Did you sleep well?” Crystal wondered if he was imagining things or had Freddie just flicked his eyes towards Crystal. Freddie did not wait for Roger to reply before he continued, “Brian was restless all night.”

“The bed’s too short,” Brian protested, casting an apologetic glance at Crystal who wanted to tell him he really didn’t give a shit if the absurdly long-legged Flamingo was too long for the perfectly adequate bed he had provided. 

Miami entered, closely followed by Phoebe. “What would everyone like for breakfast?” Phoebe asked. 

“You don’t have to serve everyone,” Crystal told Phoebe, “We’re all big enough and ugly enough to feed ourselves.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Phoebe smiled, “I always made breakfast for my siblings.”

“Well, in that case I’ll have scrambled eggs on toast,” Crystal grinned. Phoebe had numerous siblings, he knew – seemingly thousands of them – and he could imagine Phoebe fussing over them.

Over breakfast Miami gently organised everyone into work groups. Phoebe and Freddie were going to decide which room to paint first and discuss designs. John and Brian were going to start looking at the wiring. “Which leaves the rest of us,” Miami indicated himself, Roger and Crystal, “to have a look at the perimeter wall.”

Roger beamed, “I win,” he declared to his friends, “I get to be outside on this glorious day!”

*

If Roger regretted being outside in the heat of the day once he was heaving large stones up a ladder to plug gaps in the dry stone wall he did not complain about it. Which was to his credit, Crystal thought, slightly grudgingly. He also had to admit that John had been correct - Roger was stronger than he looked. 

“It’s a bit like a puzzle, isn’t it?” Roger observed cheerfully, “Figuring out which bits go where.”

Crystal grunted in reply but silently agreed that it was a bit like a puzzle and that this is what he liked about the work. He was in silent agreement with Roger when he pronounced the view ‘delightful’ too.

“This is a lovely setting,” Roger continued. “You’re all hidden away. No wonder it’s called World’s End House, although it’s more like a tower than a house, isn’t it?”

“It’s actually within walking distance of the town,” Miami noted, “If you go along the coastal path. But it feels very remote. It’s very peaceful.”

“So...The house belongs to you, Crystal?” Roger asked. He was clearly wondering where Miami and Phoebe fitted in. Crystal simply nodded. 

“Crystal’s grandmother left him the house,” Miami explained, “And she also left Crystal the nearby cottage I had been living in with Phoebe.” He looked directly at Roger, “We’re partners,” he told him. 

Crystal doubted Roger would have an issue with this but he found he was holding his breath even so. Roger simply nodded and said, “Phoebe seems really sweet.”

“Oh, he is,” Miami agreed. 

“Crystal didn’t make you homeless, did he?” Roger asked, aiming a little frown at Crystal. 

“Evidently not, Canary, since they’re both living here,” Crystal retorted. 

“But not in their cosy cottage,” Roger commented. 

Miami grinned. “When it became apparent that Crystal was mad enough to want to do this place up we offered our services to help with the repairs,” he explained, “And initially when this place had no running water and holes in the roof Crystal stayed with us. Then, as this place improved it made more sense just to stay here.”

“The inheritance also provided some money for repairs,” Crystal explained.

“Don’t you have proper jobs, then, you and Phoebe?” Roger wondered. 

“I’m an accountant,” Miami informed him, “And I work from home – I do the books for a lot of small businesses hereabouts. I’m mostly working in the evenings at the moment so we can work on the house during the day. Phoebe also works from home. He illustrates books – usually children’s books although he sometimes works on book covers. He’ll enjoy working with your Freddie.”

Crystal found he was not keen on the idea that Freddie belonged to Roger. The annoying voice in his head suggested that perhaps he was not keen on the idea that Roger belonged to Freddie and he silently told it to shut the fuck up.

“Did you give up a job to do up the house on your country estate, Crystal?” Roger asked light-heartedly. 

“It’s hardly a country estate,” Crystal protested. “I can work from home too,” he explained, “I’m a graphic designer. So I’ve been working from here, mostly in the evenings.”

*

“You’ve caught the sun, Roggie,” Freddie remarked with a little tut when they trooped into the kitchen for lunch.

“I had sun-cream on,” Roger said defensively.

“You are very pink,” Brian grinned. 

“We’ll have to make sure you re-apply your sun-cream more often,” Miami said, sounding a bit guilty. 

Crystal listened as everyone chattered about what they had been doing or the ideas they had for his house and felt oddly detached from everything. He should be taking an active interest in this – especially in the decoration schemes of Freddie and Phoebe – he was going to have to live with the results after all – yet he found he was quite content to allow it all to wash over him. His eyes strayed towards Roger – a flush of sunburn like a rash across his pale face. Roger noticed him looking and smiled and Crystal averted his eyes hastily - furious at having been caught.

*

Roger had obediently swallowed a travel sickness pill before they left. “It will work,” Brian had told him firmly when he had muttered that the very act of taking the pill usually made him feel unwell before he had even gone anywhere. “You can put some of the motion sickness bands on your wrists too,” he added, “for good measure.”

“Have you got something to puke into?” John asked. He found sickness difficult to deal with and was forcing himself to focus on practicalities.

“He won’t need a receptacle,” Brian stated. He glanced at John. “I’m sure a lot of it is psychosomatic. Don’t put the idea into his head,” he hissed. 

“Just look at the horizon, dear, and you’ll be fine,” Freddie suggested airily. He picked up on the glare John was sending in his direction. “Now, Deaky, darling, you know Roggie feels marginally better if he sits in the front.”

“I don’t really want him throwing up next to me while I’m driving,” John hissed. He aimed an apologetic look at Roger because despite the hissing he thought Roger must have heard.

“I would suggest we stop somewhere if Roger feels ill,” Freddie noted. 

“He won’t,” Brian said irritably, “Stop putting the idea of feeling ill in his head.”

John noticed that Roger had slipped away to start loading their bags into the back of the van and felt a little pang of remorse. “He can’t help getting travel sick,” he noted.

“No one is saying he can,” Brian replied testily. “Now, let’s get going.”

*

Roger drove the first leg of their long journey. He had explained to them before that he did not get sick when he was driving so he preferred that. However, the drive was long and after they had stopped for lunch John took over.

Roger sat in the passenger seat and Brian and Freddie sat in the seats behind him which Brian irritably pointed out had little to no leg room. “Sorry, Bri,” Roger murmured. 

“Let’s face it though, dear, it’s better than having him sit behind you waiting for him to vomit on your head, isn’t it?” Freddie noted. 

“Stop putting the idea in his head,” Brian ground out through gritted teeth. 

*

They were journeying down more winding roads now – heading for the coast. It was a warm day and there was a lot of traffic. The windows were down slightly – John knew from experience that Roger seemed to last longer if there was fresh air sweeping through the car. They were singing along to the radio when John realised Roger had fallen silent. “Rog, are you okay?” he asked. 

He heard Roger swallow. “Uh...Could you...There isn’t anywhere to pull over, is there Deaky?” Roger gulped sounding slightly desperate.

“Sorry,” John replied, “As soon as I can safely stop I will.” He wished he had insisted that Roger had something to vomit into because the volume of traffic and the full lay-bys suggested he was unlikely to be able to stop in time for Roger.

He wished he could close his ears as this prediction proved true and he heard Roger heave the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He supposed that a fair bit of it had covered Roger too. “Sorry,” Roger whimpered.

The smell was appalling. John opened his window wider. He heard the others assuring Roger that it didn’t matter. “Don’t worry about it, mate,” he told Roger, “I’ll stop as soon as I can,” he promised. 

It was another half an hour before he managed to find a lay-by he could stop in. Roger opened the van door and leaned out to vomit onto the ground before he could even manage to leave the van. John helplessly rubbed his back.

The lay-by was a large one, separated from the road by a dented metal barrier. Another couple of vehicles had halted there – another car and a small camper van – and John felt their occupants were staring at Roger who had stumbled from the van onto the grass verge and was doubled over vomiting copiously with Freddie gently rubbing his back.

“His hair’s already coated,” Brian announced. He pulled a face. “This is what comes of putting the idea in his head.”

John silently started to count to ten. He got to six, which he thought was quite good. “Have you ever known him not to puke on a long car journey?” he demanded.

“We always make such a fuss about it,” Brian cried and John could tell that Brian thought that John’s reasoning somehow proved Brian’s point. 

“It isn’t fucking psychosomatic, Brian,” John snapped, “If it was all in his fucking head it wouldn’t also be all over the fucking floor of the van.”

“There’s no need to swear,” Brian hissed, eyeing the family from the camper van who were watching proceedings from the deckchairs they had set out on the verge. There were a couple of children present.

“Nor is there any need to make Roggie feel worse about this than he already does,” John noted tersely.

“I wouldn’t,” Brian cried – an injured expression on his face. He stalked off and John thought he might sit huffily in the van until they could set off again then felt terrible when Brian reappeared wielding a water bottle, marching over to Roger and Freddie in order to allow Roger to rinse his mouth out and drink.

Feeling furious with himself John fetched the stack of napkins and wet wipes they kept in the van (theoretically useful for all sorts of eventualities but normally used when Roger was ill) and did his best to clean the van floor at least a little bit. It was a task that made him feel decidedly queasy too and his heart sank at the prospect of having to tackle it properly once they had arrived at their destination. 

He considered this madness for a moment. They could easily have found summer jobs in London instead of traipsing across the country to work on the restoration of some ruined building. And John still didn’t feel they’d had satisfactory answers to his questions of ‘how ruined?’ – ‘what will the accommodation be like?’ – ‘what are the terms and conditions of employment?’ He silently cursed himself for caving in to Freddie’s pleading as he always did.

Sighing, he gathered up the soiled napkins and wet wipes and took them to the vast stinking concrete bin which flies and wasps were swarming round. He wiped his hands with a fresh wipe before throwing it into the bin too. Roger was now leaning tiredly against Freddie. John headed back to the van to stow the packet of wipes and met Brian as he returned with the water bottle. Both of them said thank you simultaneously then gave little huffs of laughter. It was as close as they would get to an apology. Brian reached over and let his fingers trail up John’s arm lightly and John leaned into his touch.

He glanced back at Freddie and Roger who were walking slowly towards the van. Freddie had his arm around Roger’s shoulders. John took a deep breath – a faint whiff of the evil litter bin – exhaust fumes – the puddle of vomit Roger had left on the ground next to the van – and wondered how this job would impact the new, fragile, relationship he was forging with Brian and Freddie. 

Roger looked small and too pale. John realised he had been too hasty in putting the wet wipes away and retrieved them so he could swab Roger’s vomit encrusted hair and clothes. As he did so he murmured that Roger was okay – everything would be fine – all was well. He half-expected Roger to tell him that he wasn’t a child but Roger was meek and obedient and John thought he must be feeling terrible. He made another trip to the disgusting litter bin and then returned to the van.

The smell lingered unpleasantly even with the windows open. Roger seemed hunched over – curved around his stomach – the source of his discomfort. The radio was on but no one was singing now.

“The sea!” Freddie exclaimed excitedly as they rounded a corner. John felt a little surge of relief. “Nearly there,” he murmured. 

Brian brought up the directions on his phone and they navigated their way without difficulty. Once they had passed through the little seaside town of Solum Bay the road ran between the sandy beach and a wooded area. “It certainly feels like we’re heading to the end of the world,” Freddie murmured.

The house was called World’s End House and John had reservations about how they would fare in such a remote spot. Brian and Freddie were true city boys and although John and Roger had grown up in smaller towns they had never lived in the middle of nowhere. He had to admit that in the sunshine it looked very inviting though.

“Oh, wow,” Brian breathed as the house - not really a house at all John realised but rather a large square tower with a crenellated top – came into view. “It’s a castle!”

It looked reasonably intact which John was grateful for. He glanced at Roger who was very quiet again and thought Roger looked like he was desperately trying not to vomit again. “Very nearly there, Roggie,” he said softly, “Just hang in there a little bit longer.”

As he parked in the driveway three men emerged from the house. They all left the van, glad to be out in the fresh air.

A balding man with impressively muscular arms was viewing them with undisguised dismay. A dark haired man with a moustache smiled warmly. The third man hung back a little surveying them. 

“I was expecting work horses not zebras,” the balding man snorted, adding dismissively, “Sparrows,” he looked sourly at them, “not these parrots and flamingos.”

What a fucking cheek he had, John fumed. They had been driving for most of the day to get here. Roger had been through hell to get here and now they were being insulted. He was tempted to storm back to the van and take them all home again. The prospect of re-entering the interior of the van and being cooped up in there for hours again was not an enticing one, however. Not to mention the fact that it might actually kill Roger. 

He was amazed when Roger collected himself enough to speak first, telling the rude bastard that canaries had worked down mines. John was revelling in this when Roger suddenly bent over and vomited again. He looked distressed. John glanced at Brian and Freddie hoping one of them would step forward to comfort Roger – he felt queasy again himself – when the dark haired man with the moustache stepped forward and placed his arm around Roger’s shoulders. “Let’s get you sorted out,” he suggested kindly causing Roger to blush.

Rude balding man cleared his throat. “Three of you,” he gestured towards Brian, John and Freddie “Will be sharing a room.” He glanced at Roger, “Canary can bunk in with me,” he stated, turning around and stalking off abruptly. 

John felt his hands clench into fists then felt Brian clasp his shoulder. “Let’s get Rog sorted,” Brian murmured. John nodded. Much as he would like to storm off and to hell with baldy and the fucking job Roger was in no shape to be getting back into the van.

The third man – the silent observer – cleared his throat. “I’m Jim Beach,” he introduced himself, “But everyone calls me Miami. This,” he gestured towards the man who had put his arm around Roger, “is Phoebe – his real name is Peter Freestone, but no one uses that.” He glanced in the direction the balding man had stormed off in. “Please do come inside,” he invited them. “You must be tired after your long journey.”

Brian stepped forward and shook hands with Miami, introducing everyone as he did so. “Roger gets terribly car sick,” he added.

“Sorry,” Roger mumbled. 

“Come inside,” Phoebe urged him kindly, “I’m sure you’ll feel better soon, now you’ve stopped moving,” he added sympathetically. 

It was much cooler inside the house – castle – John thought. He took in the flag-stone floor and the beautiful wooden staircase curving upwards. Freddie was twirling around looking upwards and remarking on how wonderful a space it was. Roger was looking uneasy again. “Freddie, stop spinning or Roggie’s going to puke again,” he commanded. 

“Sorry, darling,” Freddie stopped twirling round immediately. 

Phoebe took Roger upstairs to his room. The room he would be sharing with their surly employer, John realised uneasily. He had to admit he was glad he would be sharing a room with Freddie and Brian though. But it did feel as if they were abandoning Roger to a terrible fate. 

Miami gave them a quick tour of the house before he showed them into the large room they would be sharing. It had three single beds in it. John was pleased to see that they had their own bathroom.

“There’s another bathroom just down the hall,” Miami told them, “Which you will also have pretty much to yourselves.”

The house was in much better shape than John had expected. The accommodation was of a much higher standard than he had dared hope for too. He had thought they might be pretty much camping out in a ruin. If it hadn’t been for the bad manners of their boss he thought he might have felt almost happy about having been dragged out here. 

Freddie announced that he was going to get his bag. John followed him back outside, calling to him to fetch Roger’s bag first as he would need a change of clothing, and was surprised to see the rude man cleaning the vomit splattered passenger side of the van. He thanked the man, feeling awkward. He was very grateful to have been spared that task. He supposed Freddie or Brian might have done it but he suspected it would have fallen to him despite his own discomfort at dealing with illness or the aftermath of illness. He felt himself standing a little taller – wary of this abrupt stranger. 

He introduced himself. Freddie also introduced himself but the man did not. They fetched the bags, leaving the guitars for the time being. 

Back in the bedroom Miami introduced everyone to each other and they finally discovered what they had already worked out – balding man was their employer, Chris Taylor – Crystal apparently. He was persisting in calling Roger Canary. Brian was plainly cross about that but John wondered if it was a good sign – personally he thought Roger had been the winner in that exchange and a nickname implied some kind of affection – although perhaps he just felt sorry for Rog because he had been unwell. He indicated which bag was Roger’s and the man left the room with it. 

“Is he always so...forthright?” Brian asked Miami, his tone a little frosty, once Crystal had left. 

Miami grinned. “He’s...Just give him time...His bark’s worse than his bite.”

*

Roger was quiet at dinner and John was worried about him. He drew him aside as they were helping with the washing up. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

Roger nodded. “I’m just a bit tired,” he said. 

Freddie had overheard. “Darling, if you’d like one of us to share a room with the grumpy ogre you can swap with Brian,” he offered, earning himself a gentle punch on the arm from Brian.

“Do you want to swap, Rog?” Brian asked. 

Roger shook his head. “It’ll be fine.”

“You do have your sleeping pills, don’t you?” John asked, lowering his voice and checking that neither Phoebe nor Miami were within earshot.

Roger nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he assured them. 

*

They pushed the three single beds in their room together and snuggled together. It was a warm night and they had left the window slightly ajar. They could hear the gentle rush of waves as they reached the shore. “I hope Roggie’s okay,” Freddie fretted.

“He’ll be fine,” Brian predicted. “Those pills knock him out,” he added, “And his feet won’t be hanging off the end of the bed like mine are.”

“He’s not that short,” John noted. “Curl up,” he suggested, “or lie sort of diagonally.”

“Don’t encourage him to sprawl across me, dear,” Freddie huffed. “I’m hot enough as it is!”

“Do you think they can hear us?” Brian wondered. 

“I don’t think so,” John told him, “I think Miami and Phoebe’s room is above ours and I can’t hear a thing, can you? I think the walls and floors are really thick.”

*

Roger seemed chirpy enough at breakfast the following day. John noted that Freddie didn’t give him a chance to answer how he had slept. Crystal looked tired but perhaps he wasn’t a good sleeper. He probably had a guilty conscience.

He was glad to find he had been paired with Brian for work rather than a stranger. Freddie would be okay with Phoebe and although Roger was stuck with Crystal he would also have Miami to smooth things over. Sorting the electrics of the house would be challenging and John was keen to get started. He was starting to think that perhaps this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. 

*

The sun had turned Roger’s face pink when they assembled for lunch. Crystal seemed quiet – which was probably a good thing – and John thought he was looking strangely at Roger. He wondered uneasily if Roger had definitely packed his sleeping pills and if he had taken one before going to bed last night.

After lunch they helped with the washing up again and John managed to corner Roger. “You did remember to take your sleeping pills, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Roger agreed, “but I forgot to take one last night,” he confessed. “Crystal was very nice about it though,” he added.

“By nice do you just mean he didn’t actually kill you?” John whispered.

Roger simply grinned by way of reply and moved off to help put away some plates.

John noted Crystal had vanished as he had done the previous night when there was washing up to be done (although John had to admit he had helped clear away the breakfast dishes). When Crystal reappeared he was carrying a peaked cap which he dropped onto Roger’s head. “This might keep some of the sun off your nose,” he told Roger gruffly, “You’re no use to me with sunstroke.”

“Thanks Crystal,” Roger beamed. 

*

It was Phoebe who proposed going down to the beach for a swim after work. “We could order pizza afterwards,” he suggested. “No slaving over a hot stove in this heat!”

Everyone agreed enthusiastically. As it was so warm they simply changed into swimming-shorts, slopped sun-cream onto each other and went down to the beach ready to run into the water, leaving their towels on a sun-warmed rock near the door that led back into the garden.

John could see a very small figure in the distance with a dot near their feet that he thought was probably a dog but their section of the beach was deserted. Brian was already plunging into the water, whooping with delight. His hair was piled up on his head in a messy bun and John thought how gorgeous he looked. He ran after him, gasping as he entered the water which felt cold after the heat of the day.

Roger was floating on his back, his eyes closed, hair floating out around his head like a stylised halo or representation of sun-rays. “Have you got sun-cream on, Roggie?” John asked, suddenly feeling guilty for only having attended to Freddie and Brian in this regard.

“Crystal helped me,” Roger murmured, “Did my back for me,” he added. 

John glanced around and noted that Crystal was swimming a little away from everyone else parallel with the shore. Miami was splashing water at Phoebe who was grinning. Brian had headed in the opposite direction from Crystal – also parallel with the shore but not as far out. Freddie splashed over to them playfully splashing water onto Roger’s face. “Are you tired, Rog?” he asked sounding sympathetic.

“Yeah, a bit,” Roger replied, opening one blue eye. “Lugging rocks about is hard work.”

“Did you have a nightmare last night?” Freddie wondered, his voice gentle. John was surprised that Freddie had worked out that Roger had not taken a sleeping pill then he realised he should not have been surprised – Freddie could read Roger like a book. 

“Yeah,” Roger admitted. “Crystal was nice about it,” he added. 

“You should take your pills, dear,” Freddie admonished him softly.

“They make me so groggy,” Roger objected. 

“Yes, but...” Freddie seemed to decide not to continue with whatever he had been going to say. He was regarding Roger with a worried expression. 

John considered this. “When did you stop taking the pills, Rog?” he asked. He tried not to sound accusatory but wasn’t sure he had quite succeeded.

“They make me feel really groggy all the time,” Roger told him instead of answering the question.

“Maybe the doctor could prescribe you something different if those ones don’t suit you,” John pointed out. His mind was racing wondering where he could find Roger a doctor out here. There must be a doctor in the little town, he thought, in Solum Bay. 

“I’m fine, John,” Roger assured him, as if he was answering a question John hadn’t asked. “It’s not as bad as it was,” he added. “I am sleeping.”

John reflected darkly that he had thought Roger had always been getting some sleep albeit disrupted. Roger had evidently intended that to be reassuring when it was actually quite the opposite. “We could find you a doctor here,” he said softly. 

“There’s no need,” Roger assured him in a bright tone of voice, “I’m absolutely fine.”

*

Crystal looked at the bottle of sleeping pills in the bathroom cabinet. They had either multiplied or the little Canary also possessed a bottle of sleeping pills. He picked up the new bottle. They were a different kind, he noted. Roger Taylor, the label on the bottle said. He wondered if Roger’s sleeping tablets were better than his. Presumably not since Roger wasn’t taking his either. Not that Crystal needed his now, of course. He set the bottle back on the shelf and closed the cabinet door. The door was mirrored and he sighed as his reflection greeted him – bleary eyed. He raised his hand and touched his hairline wondering gloomily if it had moved backwards today. His hair was in retreat he thought and managed to smile.

Roger was blow-drying his hair when Crystal returned to the bedroom. “Preening your feathers again, Canary?” Crystal called, ruffling Roger’s hair and earning a glare.

“I have to look my best for the miners,” Roger replied cheerfully, apparently not bothered for long by Crystal’s act of hair sabotage.

“What kind of pizza would you like?” Crystal asked, pausing in the doorway.

“Ham and pineapple please,” Roger requested. 

“Pineapple shouldn’t be allowed on pizza,” Crystal countered. “It’s a fruit.”

Roger shrugged. “So is tomato,” he pointed out. He grinned. “I won’t force you to share it,” he laughed. 

*

They sat round the kitchen table eating pizza and chatting. Crystal listened to Phoebe teasing information out of the London zebras. Brian was studying astrophysics apparently. Crystal wasn’t entirely sure what that was – the physics of space? – It sounded difficult. Crystal thought Flamingo probably liked difficult. He didn’t appear to be one for taking the easy route. John was studying electrical engineering and Freddie was an art student. Roger didn’t mention what he studied although since they had apparently met at University he was presumably studying something.

“Do you share accommodation during term time?” Miami asked. 

Crystal was interested to hear that while Brian, John and Freddie shared a flat Roger had been living elsewhere “until recently”. No one volunteered any reason why Roger had needed to move and they all seemed slightly tense when this was mentioned. They clearly didn’t have an issue with Roger – the whole group were very at ease with each other – so Crystal deduced that they must dislike the circumstances that had led to Roger moving in with them. 

Crystal thought about Roger’s bottle of sleeping pills and his bad dreams the night before. No, no, no, please don’t was what he had repeatedly said. Of course that might have just been a dream. It wasn’t necessarily about something that had happened to Roger.

*

Crystal perched on his stone bench watching the sun set. It was a colourful sunset. He looked up as he heard movement and saw Roger slipping out of the kitchen door. “May I join you?” Roger asked politely.

Crystal gestured silently to the empty expanse of bench next to him and Roger sat down. Roger cast a longing look at his cigarette. “I’ve supposedly given up,” Roger informed him sadly. “Brian is very persuasive.”

Crystal snorted. “Do you always do as Brian tells you?” he asked, holding out his cigarette packet to Roger who slid a cigarette out of it. “If you take up the filthy habit again then you can buy your own,” he added, “No cadging off me.” He brandished his lighter and lit Roger’s cigarette with a flourish.

“I didn’t notice you smoking earlier,” Roger said, giving a contented little sigh as he sucked on his cigarette. 

“Yeah, well, your Brian is right, isn’t he,” Crystal noted, “It’s a killer. I only have a couple a day now.” He noted that he had assigned Brian to Roger and felt slightly annoyed with himself.

They sat in silence smoking and Crystal wondered if the long ago person who had the stone bench placed here had sat on it alone or if they’d had a companion – although Roger was a near stranger who was simply sharing this space with him. Crystal thought that Roger got bonus points for not trying to engage him in inane conversation. The irritating little voice in his head noted with amusement that he was apparently awarding points to Roger now.

*

Roger left the bathroom steamy and sweetly scented as he had done the night before. Crystal wondered if he had taken one of his pills tonight. Should Crystal take a pill? If he did he probably wouldn’t waken even if Roger had a nightmare. He felt uneasy at the prospect of sleeping if Roger woke up scared as he had done the night before although he was not sure what he was uneasy about. He was not Roger’s nursemaid, after all. The annoying voice in his head suggested chirpily that maybe he was uneasy at the thought of Roger being upset with no one to comfort him. Crystal silently told his irritating internal commentator to fuck off.

Roger was in bed when he left the bathroom. “Good night, Crystal, sweet dreams,” Roger said. 

“Yeah, night,” Crystal managed tonight. Would that appease the Gods of Nightmares? 

*

Apparently not, he discovered a few hours later when Roger’s whimpering awakened him. Roger was chanting no, no, no, again. “Just tell your dream persecutor to fuck off,” Crystal advised him grumpily.

“Please don’t,” Roger whimpered. 

“Tell them to fuck off,” Crystal repeated, feeling marginally foolish.

Roger was thrashing around now as he had the night before. He was consistent, Crystal would give him that. Does he get a point for that, the little voice in his head asked sarcastically. 

Roger suddenly flung himself over and toppled out of the bed landing on the floor with a thump and a little cry of surprise. “Canary?” Crystal slipped out of bed and padded around Roger’s bed to find him struggling to get up, entwined in a sheet. “You’re not very good at flying, little songbird,” Crystal told him, tugging the sheet away so Roger could scramble to his feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked. 

“Just my pride,” Roger mumbled.

Crystal hesitated then stepped closer to Roger, awkwardly sliding his arms around him in an uncertain attempt at a hug. He was surprised when Roger pressed his face against Crystal’s shoulder and leaned against him. Crystal could smell Roger’s apple scented shampoo. His pyjamas felt soft under Crystal’s hands. He gently patted Roger’s back wondering what on earth had possessed him to hug Roger. He was not a hugger. Roger had just seemed so...defenceless. Crystal released him and began to try to sort the bed. The sheets were tangled and Crystal sighed. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Roger muttered.

“There’s no possible way you’re not bruised,” Crystal said crossly. He threw the covers to the floor. “I can’t be arsed wrangling sheets at this time of night. Come and share my bed,” he offered, not giving himself time to think about it. He headed back to his own bed, shifting over to the side to allow Roger room to get in beside him.

Roger hesitated then followed him, sliding in next to him. Crystal rolled over turning his back on Roger. “Go to sleep, Canary,” he ordered, “Consider your cage covered.”

*

When Crystal awakened he discovered that at some point during the night he had become entwined with Roger, who was snuggled against him. Roger wriggled and opened one blue eye. “G’ morning,” Roger chirruped. Crystal grunted. Roger wriggled again. “I need to pee,” he informed Crystal who realised that he was clasping Roger to him and hastily released him so he could scramble out of the bed. “Thanks,” he said to Crystal as he headed towards the bathroom. Crystal frowned – he was pretty sure Roger was limping a little. He had known Roger must have hurt himself when he had fallen on the floor he thought triumphantly. 

“There’s arnica in the bathroom cabinet,” he called, “for your bruises.” 

*

If Roger was in pain he didn’t show it as they worked in the garden again, repairing the wall. Another point in his favour, Crystal thought. 

At lunch Crystal asked if they needed to go shopping. Phoebe nodded. “We could do with stocking up on food,” he said.

“Maybe everyone should make a list of any supplies they need and a couple of us can take a trip into town?” Miami suggested. 

As both Phoebe and Freddie and Brian and John wished to continue with their work on the house it was decided that Roger and Crystal would go shopping. Miami was going to check in on the cottage he shared with Phoebe.

“Are you gonna puke on the way into town?” Crystal wondered as they walked to his car.

“I’m usually okay on little journeys,” Roger told him, “And it’s a fairly straight road, isn’t it? Or,” he smiled sweetly, “I’m okay if I drive.”

“You’re not driving my car,” Crystal snorted, “And I’m not going anywhere in your crappy van. If you throw up in my car you’ll be walking home.”

“I don’t make a habit of puking in cars,” Roger protested, “I’ll tell you if I need to stop. Then I can respectably decorate the verge. There wasn’t anywhere John could stop on the way here. And with the benefit of hindsight I should have driven for the second half of the journey.”

Crystal grinned. “Get in then, Canary and let’s get this fucking massive amount of food.”

*

Crystal squinted at his phone scanning the shopping list. “Did you add cigarettes?” he wondered. 

Roger nodded. “I’ll tell Bri you’ve led me astray,” he grinned. 

“Don’t blame me for your vices,” Crystal huffed, “Don’t force me to suffer through Brian’s disappointment on your behalf.”

Roger grinned, “As if you would!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Crystal nodded, “I won’t be. Take responsibility for your own stupid decisions.”

“I’ll try to restrict myself to a couple every day like you do,” Roger told him.

Crystal snorted. “Let’s buy more than you think you’ll need,” he suggested. 

*

Crystal was surprised to be greeted by name in the fruit and veg aisle. “It’s Mr Taylor, isn’t it – from World’s End?”

Crystal turned suspiciously to find a woman he didn’t recognise behind him. “I’m Flora Simon,” the woman introduced herself, “My husband...”

“Your husband owns the building company,” Crystal realised, “Pleased to meet you,” he said although he was actually wondering how the hell she knew who he was. He really hoped she was not about to make him aware of some hitherto unknown issue with the hefty bill for the work her husband’s firm had carried out on the house which he considered paid in full. She was smiling in an enquiring way at Roger. “This is Roger,” Crystal said, “He’s helping me with the house.”

“That’s very kind of you, dear,” she smiled at Roger. She then bestowed a sad smile on Crystal and he mentally braced himself – he knew that look – incoming pity. “We only realised the other day that you were related to Grace. We were so sorry to hear of your loss,” she murmured. “Grace was such a darling.”

“Yes,” Crystal agreed, “Thank you,” he added although he was not sure that was entirely the correct sentiment and he was never very sure how to respond to people who were sorry to hear of his loss. Or people who had thought Grace was a darling.

When Mrs Simon had proceeded on her way and was out of earshot Roger asked, “Was Grace the grandmother who left you the house?”

Crystal shook his head. “No, Grace was...Someone else.” He made a show of consulting the list. “We need pretty much every vegetable known to man, apparently,” he declared.

*

“Fucking hell,” Crystal stared up at the top of the castle as they approached. The fucking Flamingo was on the roof, his curls unmistakable as they streamed out behind him in the breeze. “How did he get up there?” 

As soon as he had halted the car he sped into the castle, leaving the keys in the ignition. He took the stairs two at a time. The door leading up onto the roof was open and he burst onto the roof to find Brian, Freddie and Phoebe up there. “How did you get up here?” he screamed. He rounded on Phoebe, “Where did you get a key to that door?”

Brian made a placating gesture with his hands. “I asked Phoebe to show me,” he said in a soothing tone that enraged Crystal more. He felt Brian was implying he was being unreasonable. The irritating voice in his head pointed out that he was being unreasonable. 

“Where did you get a key to that door?” Crystal repeated coldly.

Phoebe looked bewildered. He held up his key ring – the keys jangling. “I’ve always had a key,” he told Crystal. “I didn’t realise it was unsafe...?”

“It isn’t,” Crystal snapped, “I just...I’d prefer it if...” He sighed, “Sorry,” he muttered, “That was...Sorry...”

“We’re sorry, darling,” Freddie apologised, “We didn’t mean to upset you.”

“What’s wrong?” Roger wondered, arriving on the roof panting for breath. “Oh,” he glanced around at the view. “This is amazing!”

Roger was right, Crystal thought - it was amazing. It should be fun – a happy moment as Crystal showed off the view – basking in the admiration of the Londoners on this lovely sunny day. A memory was trying to surface like a dorsal fin peeking above the waves – women in sequin covered dresses with glasses in their hands – men in tuxedos – laughter then uglier shouting then... Crystal shook his head as if this physical act would swat the memory aside. Was it a memory? He pushed it to the back of his mind and took a deep breath. “I’d prefer it if no one came up here alone and if people are up here I’d prefer it if they were sober, please.”

“Understood,” Brian’s eyes were gleaming, “It’ll be great for star gazing!” he said excitedly. 

There was a short silence then, “Shall we go and rescue the shopping?” Roger suggested softly. 

“Yeah,” Crystal mumbled. 

*

The kitchen was deserted as they brought the bags of food and other supplies inside. Crystal mechanically showed Roger where to put things. Once everything was stowed away, Roger steered Crystal onto a chair. “I’ll make you a cuppa,” he offered. 

They sat quietly with their cups of tea. Crystal’s tea seemed suspiciously sweet and he thought Roger was treating him for shock. Roger had shaken a few biscuits onto a plate – custard creams – and Crystal nibbled one. They both looked up as Miami entered. “Phoebe just called me saying something about the roof,” he said, managing to sound both menacing and confused at the same time.

Crystal sighed. “He took them up on the roof,” he said wearily, “And I’m afraid I over-reacted.”

“Ah,” Miami hovered in the doorway, taking in the mugs of tea, the plate of custard creams and Crystal and Roger. “I’ll go and talk to Phoebs,” he said, backing out of the room. 

“Fuck,” Crystal mumbled. “I just didn’t think...” He hadn’t realised Phoebe had a key, he thought. He’d thrown the key into the sea. He supposed there was bound to have been more than one. The little voice in his head pointed out it was just as well if there was more than one key – what had Crystal intended to do if the roof needed further repairs? Smart arse voice, Crystal thought grumpily. 

John entered, looking quizzically at Crystal and Roger, “What happened?” he asked. “Brian is talking about stars and Freddie says they upset you?”

“Phoebe took Freddie and Brian up on to the roof,” Roger explained, “And Crystal was...It was a bit of a surprise for Crystal that they were there. The rules are that no one goes up there alone and we don’t go up there unless we are sober.”

John looked at Roger and then nodded. “Fair enough,” he said crisply, turning and leaving the room. 

Crystal thought John sounded almost as unhappy as Miami had been with Crystal for upsetting Phoebe and then had a sudden thought. “The three of them?” he queried, looking at Roger. 

Roger nodded and pushed the plate of biscuits towards him. “Have another custard cream,” he suggested. 

*

Roger silently followed Crystal when he rose to go and apologise to Phoebe. Crystal thought he ought to tell Roger to stay in the kitchen – tell him that this was something Crystal needed to do alone. But he was glad of his silent little shadow as he approached Phoebe and Miami’s room. The door was ajar. He knocked on it.

“Come in,” Miami called. 

“I’ll be right here,” Roger murmured, leaning against the wall of the corridor.

Crystal nodded and slipped into the bedroom. Phoebe was sitting on the bed, snuggled against Miami. Crystal cleared his throat, “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Crystal gulped. “I...It was a shock...I’m sorry.”

“It was silly of me,” Phoebe said in a wavering voice, “I should have checked with you first...”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Miami stated, “We have keys to all of the doors in the house. If Crystal has a problem with that then we can go home.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Crystal told him softly. “And you can go where you choose, of course. I just...It was a shock,” he repeated. 

“Just because you find it difficult to go up there doesn’t mean no one else should,” Miami snapped. 

“No,” Crystal agreed, “I know. I...In my head it’s off limits but I know I can’t impose that on everyone else.” A memory tried to surface again – bare feet running downstairs – glittering sequins scattering on flagstones – Crystal suppressed the memory. And was it even a memory? He had never been here before he inherited the place, had he?

“I don’t like the way you spoke to Phoebe,” Miami told him coldly. 

“Oh, love, he’s apologised now,” Phoebe pointed out, “And I understand why it happened. I think we both do?” Phoebe scrambled off the bed and approached Crystal, gathering him into a slightly awkward hug. “I forgive you.”

“So do I,” Miami agreed, reaching over and clasping Crystal’s shoulder, “But don’t speak to Phoebe like that again,” he warned him. 

“Understood,” Crystal nodded.

Roger was waiting for him in the corridor. “Okay?” he asked.

Crystal nodded. “I just...” He indicated the nearby bathroom. “Give me a sec...”

Roger nodded. He was still standing in the corridor waiting patiently when Crystal emerged from the bathroom, having splashed water on his face. 

*

The door to the London zebras’ room was closed. Crystal knocked and waited, feeling like a child summoned to the headmaster’s study at school. Roger clasped his hand and squeezed it, letting it go as the door was opened by Freddie. 

“Do come in, darlings,” Freddie stood aside to allow them to enter.

Brian, John and Freddie stood together facing Roger and Crystal. “I’m sorry about earlier,” Crystal said. “And as I said - you can go on the roof if you like as long as you’re careful and sober, please.”

Freddie was scrutinising Crystal and he shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “That was quite a reaction, dear,” he noted, “Did something happen?”

Crystal shook his head, not sure he would be able to speak. The little voice in his head whispered that yes, something had happened. But he had not been here before and could not have heard laugher and singing on the roof – or seen a man lighting a cigarette – heard a scream. He turned and swept out of the room. This time Roger did not follow and he felt bereft.

*

John had been adding plug sockets to the sparsely furnished sitting room none of them had sat in yet when the commotion had broken out. Brian had gone to assist Phoebe and Freddie with moving some furniture and Brian had not returned. John had assumed, slightly irritably, that they had decided to have a tea-break and had forgotten about him. 

Then Freddie burst in looking distressed. “We upset Crystal,” he gabbled. 

“Who has?” John had asked, scrambling to his feet. 

“Phoebe was showing us the roof and Crystal showed up and went crazy saying Phoebe shouldn’t have let us onto the roof,” Freddie gulped, “He was really acting very oddly, dear.”

John accompanied Freddie to their room. Brian was pacing up and down, “Do you think he meant we could use the roof?” he asked, “It’d be marvellous up there at night! I think the light pollution would be relatively low here,” he told them, “But he seemed so...”

“Crazy?” Freddie suggested. 

“Where’s Rog?” John wondered. 

“He...”Freddie glanced at Brian, “He followed Crystal up on to the roof. They went to take the shopping in from the car.”

*

The door leading onto the roof was still open. John ventured up onto the roof but it was deserted. He leaned on the warm wall and looked out to sea. He wondered who the first people to live here and do this had been. Had they been soldiers of some kind? The house was an odd structure – a castle tower that had lost the rest of the castle.

He went back downstairs and met Miami who looked grim. “Do you know what’s going on?” John asked him. “Brian and Freddie seem to think they upset Crystal.”

Miami explained what John already knew – Phoebe had taken Freddie and Brian onto the roof. “When Crystal and Roger returned from the shops they saw them on the roof and Crystal apparently stormed up there and was vile to Phoebe and shouted at all of them. Roger seems to have calmed him down a little now, though. They’re in the kitchen. Sorry, I must get back to Phoebe – he was upset.”

Miami hurried off and John proceeded to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway viewing Crystal and Roger sipping tea and nibbling custard creams. He felt as if he was intruding and folded his arms across his chest. Crystal twisted in his seat and looked at him. “What happened?” he asked. “Brian is talking about stars and Freddie says they upset you?”

Crystal did not reply. Roger glanced at him and then said, “Phoebe took Freddie and Brian up on to the roof,” Roger explained, “And Crystal was...It was a bit of a surprise for Crystal that they were there. The rules are that no one goes up there alone and we don’t go up there unless we are sober.”

Crystal looked defeated John thought, finding that he was feeling almost sorry for Crystal. “Fair enough,” he said. 

*

“Is it good for Roggie to be so much in Crystal’s company if Crystal is...unstable?” Freddie fretted.

“Rog isn’t a child,” Brian pointed out. 

“No,” Freddie agreed, “but he is very fragile just now.”

“We’d have trouble getting summer jobs in London now,” John pointed out, “And we’d have to find somewhere to stay. Or we would all have to go back to our respective parents and be separated.”

He thought of Roger sitting quietly in the kitchen with Crystal. They seemed comfortable with each other. Roger was quite capable of chattering away to fill an awkward silence but their silence had not been awkward and Roger had evidently been quite happy simply to be there quietly. “And the argument that a change of scene would be good for Roggie still holds true,” John added. 

“He’d also be fine with his mother in Truro,” Freddie pointed out.

“He’d be bored,” John disagreed, “And he would be...dwelling on things. Here he is occupied.”

“What do you think it was about?” Freddie asked. 

“The tantrum on the roof?” Brian clarified, “He’s an insane control freak?” he suggested.

“Do you think someone died?” Freddie wondered, shooting a withering look at Brian. “That was not a normal reaction,” he noted. 

“You think someone jumped off the roof?” John said.

Freddie shrugged. “It would explain why he was so...distressed.”

John thought Brian looked slightly guilty. “He did seem upset,” he conceded.

They all jumped at a knock on the door. Freddie stepped forward to open the door and invited in Crystal and Roger. Crystal was avoiding eye contact. John felt they were ranged against him, apart from Roger who was over in the enemy camp.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Crystal said. “You can go on the roof if you like as long as you’re careful - and sober, please.”

John noted Crystal shift from foot to foot under Freddie’s scrutiny. “That was quite a reaction, dear,” Freddie noted, “Did something happen?”

Crystal shook his head then turned abruptly and hurried out of the room. Roger glanced after him looking thoughtful. John half-expected Roger to follow Crystal but Roger remained with them.

“Well, something clearly did happen,” Freddie decided, “Do you know what tragedy played out on the roof, dear?”

Roger looked confused for a second then his face cleared and he shook his head. “You mean did he tell me why he was so upset? No, he hasn’t.”

“I bet someone jumped,” Freddie theorised.

“Freddie, that’s horrible,” Brian shuddered, “And we don’t know that anything happened. Maybe he just didn’t want us up there for health and safety reasons.”

“Darling he was screaming like a banshee,” Freddie pointed out, “That isn’t the same as ‘please don’t go on to the roof in case you fall’ is it?”

“Well, no,” Brian agreed, “but...I don’t think we should be inventing lurid tragedies.”

“I expect Phoebe will tell us,” Freddie stated confidently. “Roger, dear, are you okay?”

Roger nodded, looking slightly startled. “Yeah, I’m fine, Freddie.”

“Did you take your pill last night?” John asked. His voice sounded much sharper than he had intended it to.

“I...No...” Roger admitted, “And I had another nightmare and Crystal was very nice again.”

“You’re not taking your sleeping pills?” Brian frowned. “Roger, you were prescribed those for a reason...”

“To help me sleep,” Roger agreed, “But I can sleep without them, Bri. Everyone has bad dreams sometimes.”

Freddie smoothed Roger’s hair, pulling him close. “We worry about you, darling.”

“It’s lovely of you to be concerned but I’m honestly fine,” Roger insisted. 

*

Everyone was very polite at dinner. Roger followed Crystal outside again after their meal and John decided to follow too. He was not spying on Roger. It was simply a lovely evening and he wanted to get some fresh air. 

And yes, he did think being here was for the best for all of them but he was also worried about Roger.

He found Roger and Crystal sitting on a stone bench smoking. So Roger had started smoking again. When had Roger started smoking again?

“When did you start smoking again, Rog?” he asked. 

Roger looked up with a guilty expression on his face. “Yesterday,” he confessed. He sighed, looking beyond John who turned and discovered that Brian and Freddie had also followed him outside.

“Oh, Rog,” Brian sighed.

“Sorry, Bri,” Roger mumbled. “I guess I don’t have much willpower.”

“You were doing so well,” Brian said reproachfully.

“Crystal’s a bad influence,” Freddie suggested lightly. 

“I didn’t influence him,” Crystal informed them, adding, “I have never asked any of you to join me out here.”

Roger grinned. “I think he means we should fuck off,” he said, standing up. “Come on, let’s stretch our legs.”

John thought Crystal looked put-out but perhaps that was because they had interrupted his after dinner cigarette and not because Roger had abandoned him. He laughed at Brian’s horror as Freddie took one of Roger’s cigarettes and started smoking too. “Maybe I should try it,” John proposed. 

Brian frowned and launched into a recitation of all the health issues caused or exacerbated by smoking. “It will literally kill you,” he concluded.

“It feels so good, though,” Roger told him. “I’m sorry, Bri, but I don’t think this is a good time for me to be abandoning this habit.”

“Perhaps not,” Brian conceded, his tone softening. “You’ve been through a lot recently.” He looked disapprovingly at Freddie. “There’s no excuse for you, though.”

“I’m having one cigarette, Brian,” Freddie noted.

“It’s a slippery slope,” Brian muttered. 

“They’re allegedly grown adults,” John noted, “If they want to destroy their health then let them.”

This set Brian off on the dangers of passive smoking and John heaved a little inward sigh. Roger was pointing out that they were smoking outside and also that Brian did not have to walk with them if he was concerned about his health and John wondered if he should intervene. He tucked his arm into Brian’s. “You’re so sexy when you’re lecturing them,” he laughed. 

“Ugh,” Roger pulled a face, “Should I leave you guys so you can fawn over each other?”

“When you’re in your room,” Brian suddenly said, “can you hear us or Miami and Phoebe in our rooms?” This had evidently been on his mind. 

Roger mimed being sick. “Thankfully not,” he replied. 

*

“I worry about him having to share a room with Crystal,” Freddie fretted later than night as they got ready for bed.

“Crystal seems to tolerate Roggie better than any of the rest of us,” Brian pointed out, “And Rog doesn’t seem to mind his moodiness.”

“I just wish that Roggie was with one of us when he has a nightmare,” Freddie sighed. 

“He could take his sleeping pills and not have any,” Brian pointed out.

“He says they make him groggy the next day,” John frowned, “But I’m sure there are other kinds that might suit him better. He was resistant about seeing a doctor, though.” John sat on the edge of his bed and looked at Freddie. “I don’t think I realised how bad things were...I didn’t realise he wasn’t getting any sleep?”

“He wasn’t in a very good place for a while,” Freddie said softly. 

John sighed. “I feel like the worst friend ever for not realising.”

“I didn’t realise either,” Brian said slowly. He sat next to John and stroked his hair. John reflected that he would not have expected Brian to have realised. Brian would need to be told. But John should have noticed. John should have been there for both Freddie and Roger. John should have alerted Brian to the situation. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Roger felt – feels – that he should be stronger. That having to rely on sleeping pills is a sign of weakness,” Freddie sighed. “You didn’t know because he didn’t want you to.”

“He confided in you,” John pointed out. 

“I was relentless in my enquiries about his well-being or lack thereof,” Freddie shrugged, “And eventually he gave in.”

The fact remained that unlike John, Freddie had realised Roger needed to be coaxed to open up. “I thought he was doing okay,” John admitted miserably. 

“He is,” Freddie said gently, “He was, darling. He’s tougher than he looks.” He sat on the other side of John and slid his arm around John’s waist. “He’s an idiot,” he added, “But he’s a resilient idiot.”

John rested his head on Freddie’s shoulder. “I wish I’d been able to support you better, and Roggie.”

“You did, darling, you were your usual steady, reliable, wonderful self,” Freddie clasped John’s hand. “So, do we think Crystal’s grandmother fell from the roof? Is that how he inherited this place?”

“Freddie,” Brian groaned, “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to invent lurid stories?”

“I agreed to no such thing, dear,” Freddie stated, “Did she fall or was she pushed?” he wondered. “If this was a crime drama...”

“This isn’t a crime drama, though,” Brian objected, “It’s Crystal’s actual life and the actual death of his relative you’re speculating about.”

“You’re no fun,” Freddie pouted. A thought occurred to him. “Why do you think his grandmother left this place to him? Are his parents dead?”

“Everybody mysteriously fell off the roof in a completely non-suspicious way?” John grinned as Brian glared at him. 

*

Breakfast the following morning was less stilted than the previous night’s dinner had been although John thought Roger was quieter than usual. As they were drying the breakfast dishes he murmured, “Are you okay? How did you sleep last night?”

“Yeah, fine,” Roger mumbled. It was not very convincing.

“Is anything wrong?” John wondered. Roger shook his head. “Did you...wake up during the night? Was Crystal less understanding?” John asked quietly, checking no one was within earshot.

“Everything’s fine,” Roger assured him, making a valiant effort at being his usual cheerful self but not quite succeeding.

John frowned. He knew he should leave Roger alone but... “You would tell us if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m fine, John,” Roger said with a slight edge to his voice. “Really, there’s no need to worry.”

*

The fuse box was in the cellar which seemed to have been hewn out of solid rock. There was nothing in there yet – it did not even seem to have become a depository for old junk. There was no wine rack filled with expensive wines. John had noticed scratch marks on the wall as if someone had been imprisoned here once and had made marks on the wall to count off the days. He switched the electricity off and went back upstairs to get back to work.

*

He asked over lunch, “Do you know the history of the house, Crystal?”

Crystal shrugged, “No, not really.”

“Do you know how it came to be in your family, dear?” Freddie wondered. 

Crystal shook his head. “My grandmother inherited it from her mother,” he said, “But I don’t know anything about it really.”

My grandmother was very formal, John noted. No Gran or Granny or Nana for Crystal. “I think someone was once imprisoned in the cellar,” he said and told them about the scratch marks. 

“I suppose it would have made a good prison,” Brian said. “Maybe military personnel were stationed here at some point. Perhaps people who disobeyed orders were kept there.”

“That’s possible,” Miami agreed. 

Crystal looked as white as a sheet, John thought although he couldn’t imagine what about the idea of the house being used by the military or as a prison would cause the colour to drain from his face. Maybe he was worried he would be locked up (caught and punished for pushing people off the roof perhaps – and really he had to stop listening to Freddie).

“I suppose the marks could have been made at any time,” Brian mused, “They could be really old.”

“Do you come from round here, Miami?” Freddie asked, “Do you know any stories about this place?”

Miami shook his head. “We moved here a few years ago,” he said, smiling at Phoebe. “We wanted to live somewhere quiet and near the sea.”

“Aren’t there any ghost stories about this place?” Roger asked. “If it was uninhabited until Crystal took it on then surely there must be local tales of ghostly sightings?”

“It’s not haunted, Canary,” Crystal told him firmly. 

“No white lady appearing on the battlements every full moon?” Freddie asked slyly.

“No white ladies anywhere or headless horsemen,” Crystal replied. He sounded perfectly calm but John noticed how tightly he was gripping the handle of his mug of tea – his knuckles were white. Did that mean there was a ghost? He was starting to agree with Freddie that there was certainly a mystery. 

*

That evening at dinner he suggested strolling into town and perhaps having a drink. “There’s a nice pub on the outskirts of town,” Phoebe told them, “It has a lovely beer garden overlooking the beach.”

“Shall we go there, then?” Freddie’s eyes lit up.

Miami and Phoebe joined them but Crystal did not. John thought Roger looked like he was about to try to persuade him and was glad when Crystal said, “I’m not good company tonight,” and stalked off into the garden.

*

It was another lovely evening and they sat outside the pub with their drinks chatting. There were quite a few other tables occupied and a couple of people greeted Miami and Phoebe.

A woman halted by their table and John thought she was also going to speak to Miami or Phoebe so was surprised when she said, “Roger, isn’t it?”

Roger beamed at her. “Mrs Simon, isn’t it? Will you join us?”

“Oh...Well...Perhaps just while I’m waiting for my friend...” She took a seat, greeting Miami and Phoebe as she did so.

Miami introduced her to the others. “We met at the supermarket yesterday,” Roger explained. 

“I do hope I didn’t upset Mr Taylor,” Mrs Simon fretted, “I didn’t intend to. I just thought...I’m not from round here, you see, but my husband is and he said...When I got home and mentioned I’d seen Mr Taylor and I’d said how sorry I was about Grace...He suggested that might not have been...” Her voice trailed off. 

“We don’t know Crystal – Mr Taylor – awfully well yet,” Freddie told her, “So I’m afraid I’m a bit lost. Who is Grace?”

Mrs Simon looked concerned. “Oh, well, it’s not really my story to tell...” She looked up as another woman approached. “There’s Sophie, I must go...It was lovely to meet you all.”

She rose and hugged her friend, both of them moving away to another table. Freddie looked at Miami. “Who is Grace, dear?”

Miami sighed. He looked at Phoebe. “It isn’t really our place to say either,” Phoebe suggested softly.

“We’ll just have to ask Crystal, then,” Freddie shrugged. 

“Oh,” Phoebe looked uneasy, “I don’t think...” He looked at Miami who sighed. 

“Grace was Crystal’s mother,” Miami explained. 

“Was, dear?” Freddie queried, sipping his drink. 

“I’m afraid she took her own life shortly after her mother – Crystal’s grandmother – died,” Miami told them. “She was supposedly a heavy drinker which may be why Crystal inherited everything, although that is pure speculation on my part,” he stressed, adding, “Crystal doesn’t really talk about her.”

“So,” Roger sipped his own drink, “yesterday Mrs Simon told Crystal she was sorry for his loss and that Grace had been lovely, or words to that effect.”

John considered this. “But if she was a heavy drinker I think we can assume Crystal might not have considered her entirely lovely,” he concluded. He thought of Crystal saying they could go up on the roof as long as they were sober. 

“I believe they had a complicated relationship,” Miami agreed.

“Is Grace connected to whatever upset Crystal on the roof yesterday?” Freddie puzzled. 

Miami and Phoebe exchanged glances. “We don’t exactly know,” Phoebe admitted, “He doesn’t really speak about anything personal. He seems very anxious about going on to the roof himself and down into the cellar but we’re not entirely sure why.”

“I expect it’s none of our business,” Brian said firmly and changed the subject. 

*

Later, back in their room, Freddie brought it up again. He was sprawled across his bed in his underwear. “It’s so hot,” he sighed. “You know, I’ve been wondering...”

“This isn’t further speculation about Crystal’s life, is it?” Brian groaned. 

“Well, dear, he seems to be developing a friendship with Roger,” Freddie pointed out, “What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t subject him to intense scrutiny to make sure he’s good enough?”

John snorted, “As if you would regard anyone as good enough for Roger.”

“Crystal isn’t marrying him,” Brian laughed, “Surely we don’t need to scrutinise a casual acquaintance!”

“It’s the casual acquaintances you have to look out for,” John said solemnly, “In case they attach themselves to you like barnacles and you can’t get rid of them!”

Freddie laughed. “You never know when a casual acquaintance might develop into a more lasting relationship,” he noted. 

Brian sighed, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Can we at least agree not to do anything that is going to get us kicked out please?”

“Darling, we’re just taking an interest in our employer,” Freddie noted, “Where’s the harm in that?”

*

It was warm in the bedroom. The window was open but there wasn’t even the slightest hint of a refreshing breeze. Crystal had soaked in lukewarm water in the bath then lay on his bed with one thin sheet loosely covering him. Even that felt too hot.

He had taken one of his sleeping pills the night before, wanting to shut everything out. He had told Roger. “I’m taking a sleeping tablet, Canary, so if you are fluttering about your cage and singing in the middle of the night I’m going to be oblivious.” He thought Roger had looked slightly hurt and he had almost put the bottle of pills back in the cabinet and abandoned the idea of abandoning Roger. 

But he didn’t owe Roger anything. Roger had stayed with his friends earlier. Roger didn’t owe him anything. Crystal was sick and tired of everyone. So he had taken the pill and had awakened feeling utterly un-refreshed by his chemically induced sleep in the morning. He had felt sluggish all day and remembered why he had stopped taking the bloody pills in the first place. Roger had looked tired and Crystal wanted to ask how he was – had he had a nightmare? But he felt he had forfeited the right to ask – to care – about Roger. Taking the sleeping pill had felt like a dereliction of duty towards his pretty Canary. 

Roger almost certainly had suffered alone through a nightmare of course. And Crystal might not owe him anything yet in a way he felt he did. He had taken Roger into his room and then into his bed. Then he had effectively ignored him. 

He was getting too close to Roger. He sighed. Roger was sweet. Crystal was sour. Roger was damaged. Crystal felt the chances of him damaging Roger further were high. Roger would be better off without him.

He was still awake, staring at the ceiling when Roger entered the room. Crystal sat up so Roger didn’t feel he had to tip-toe. “Good evening, Canary?” he enquired. 

“It was very nice,” Roger agreed. He vanished into the bathroom. When he emerged he had not changed into pyjamas as usual but was instead in a t-shirt and his underpants. 

Crystal heard the words, “We could just cut out the middle of the night antics and you could sleep in my bed,” emerge from his mouth and wondered what the hell he was doing. What you want, the annoying little voice in his head laughed. 

Roger looked uncertain and Crystal mentally prepared for a polite refusal – which would probably be for the best, really. Then Roger moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t really enjoy our cuddle the other morning because I was bursting for a pee,” Roger noted, sliding under the sheet next to Crystal and shifting closer to him.

Crystal felt a little jolt of anticipation. He gave a disapproving tut. “Expecting to be hugged on demand now, are you?” he grumbled, sliding his arms around Roger and pulling him close. Roger was warm and sweetly scented. Crystal buried his face in Roger’s hair. “You smell nice,” he murmured.

“Thank goodness,” Roger laughed. Crystal felt Roger’s hand gently smoothing his own hair. “The builder’s wife was in the pub,” Roger said conversationally, “Mrs Simon,” he clarified in case Crystal was unsure who he meant. Crystal knew exactly who he meant and felt himself grow tense in Roger’s arms. “She said she didn’t mean to upset you when she mentioned Grace. Apparently her husband had told her that she might have been insensitive.”

There was a question in there, Crystal thought. Roger was asking although he was not asking explicitly. Crystal wondered if he was able to answer. “Grace was my mother,” he mumbled. That was a nice safe factual beginning – a statement of fact. “She was an alcoholic,” he continued which was another statement of fact. “I...When I was around six years old I stopped living with her...She...Um...She wasn’t always very nice to me. I didn’t see her again until I was nineteen. She had...She was a lot better...But...It isn’t always very easy to...trust...” he concluded softly. 

Roger pressed his lips to Crystal’s forehead. His fingers trailed down Crystal’s spine and Crystal worried that his t-shirt was drenched in sweat. “I’m all sweaty,” he noted. 

“You’re glowing,” Roger suggested lightly. “I’m glowing too,” he added with a grin. Then, more seriously, he asked, “Would you like me to return to my own bed?” 

“No,” Crystal replied, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Stay.” 

*

Crystal was a child again and was wandering barefoot down a cold dark stone corridor. The corridor seemed never-ending. He was looking for something or someone but he was not sure what. Then an invisible force seemed to hit him, pushing him against the wall. He felt blows rain down on him.

He gasped as he awakened.

If Crystal had harboured the quaint notion that when Roger slept next to him he would be spared his nightmares (and Crystal had thought his presence would magically cure Roger) he was rudely disabused of this idea as Roger thrashed around in his sleep – thumping Crystal – Roger was uneasily muttering his now familiar refrain of no, no, no, please don’t. 

“Fucking hell, Canary, calm down,” Crystal grumbled, trying to hold Roger’s flailing arms away from him. Roger’s hand slammed into his cheek. “Bloody hell, Rog, wake up!” Crystal commanded. 

“No, no, no!” Roger whimpered. He tried to pull away from Crystal who realised he was now awake and released him. 

“Roggie, it’s just me, it’s Crystal,” he gabbled. “Sorry about that, Canary, you were hitting me so I grabbed you.” Crystal was not certain what Roger’s nightmares were about but he felt that whatever was going on in Roger’s subconscious it was less than ideal for Roger to awaken with a man trying to pin his arms to the bed. “Sorry, Roggie,” he repeated. 

“Oh! I hurt you!” Roger gasped.

“Not much, little Canary,” Crystal reassured him, ignoring how his cheek was smarting. He was absurdly pleased when Roger snuggled against him for a hug. Roger was shaking, “I didn’t mean to scare you, Songbird.” Roger mumbled unconvincingly that he was fine.

*

“Your face is bruised,” Roger noted the following morning. 

“Is it?” Crystal raised his hand to his cheek and discovered it did feel tender. “You must have been packing more of a punch than I thought.”

“I hurt you,” Roger said unhappily. 

“Beaten up by a Canary,” Crystal sighed. “You didn’t mean to,” he pointed out as Roger looked upset. “I’ve had worse. It’s fine.”

“Having had worse injuries isn’t really fine, is it?” Roger frowned.

“You know what I mean,” Crystal pointed out. He pulled Roger closer, “It’s fine.”

*

“Has Rog been beating you up?” Freddie joked as they entered the kitchen.

“I walked into the bathroom door while half-asleep,” Crystal lied. He was not sure why he didn’t want to tell them the truth. He could have said Roger accidentally hit him when he was trying to wake him from a nightmare without admitting they had been in the same bed, after all. And he was not ashamed of having been in the same bed as Roger anyway. The little voice in his head noted slyly that Roger might be ashamed of that and he irritably brushed the idea aside. It felt too personal – too private – to reveal to them. And he felt strangely protective of Roger – he did not want the fact that he suffered from nightmares to be broadcast to the world although he realised that Roger’s friends almost certainly knew that anyway. 

*

“Thanks,” Roger murmured, as they made their way out into the garden to work on the wall. 

“Yeah, well, it isn’t anyone else’s business,” Crystal muttered. 

It was another hot lovely day. Phoebe had suggested a barbecue on the beach once they had finished work and everyone had enthusiastically agreed. Crystal thought that maybe he should have given everyone the day off and they could have spent all day at the beach but it seemed too late to suggest it now. He thought how delectable Roger had looked in his swimming shorts the other day. He glanced at him now – hair in a messy bun – shirt flapping open and thought how beautiful Roger was. The thought alarmed him slightly. It was safer not to let anyone in. He was better off alone. Too late, the little voice in his head mocked him – you’ve already let him into your bed and your head - and your heart?

*

They took a little portable barbecue down to the beach. Phoebe and Brian were in charge of the cooking. 

Crystal went for a swim. He enjoyed being in the water. It felt like the sea was embracing him, welcoming him. The sun was warm on his back as he powered through the waves.

When he returned to shore, shaking his head like a dog as he walked up the beach spraying water everywhere, Roger stood and wandered over to offer him a towel. “Thanks, Canary,” he grinned.

There was a little rocky section near the door in the wall that led to the house. They perched on rocks with their food and drank bottles of beer they had brought with them in a cool-box. “This is the life,” Brian beamed. 

“Sunshine and pleasant company,” Freddie agreed.

“You should’ve brought your guitar, Bri,” Roger said, “You could have played for us. Brian’s a brilliant guitarist,” he told the others. “John’s really good too and Freddie’s a great singer.”

No one seemed inclined to traipse back up to the house to get a guitar and Crystal was quietly glad. He suspected Roger would rate his friend’s talents far higher than Crystal would and he didn’t really want to listen to them murder songs, especially if they played anything he liked. Plus wholesome sing-songs round the campfire made him uncomfortable. He didn’t think he was a wholesome person. He was content to just sit in the sunshine and drink beer and listen to the others chat.

“If it’s still nice weather tomorrow we should all take the day off,” he heard himself say. “The good weather probably won’t last all that long,” he added, “So we might as well make the most of it.”

“Do we still get paid?” John asked. 

Crystal grinned. “Yeah, you can have a paid day off. Only if it’s sunny, mind. If it’s raining work continues.”

“Let’s hope for sunshine then!” Roger laughed. 

*

Roger was in his own bed when Crystal left the bathroom. “You don’t want cuddles tonight?” Crystal asked lightly hoping he did not sound as disappointed as he felt. Part of him knew Roger was right to stay away from him. 

“I would like cuddles very much,” Roger told him softly, “but I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice?” Crystal suggested. 

Roger flinched and Crystal wondered what he had said to upset him. Then Roger gave him a rather forced looking smile. “I’m not sure that is even true of actual lightning,” he told Crystal. “I won’t take the risk,” he added firmly. 

“If you do have a nightmare can we have cuddles afterwards?” Crystal wondered, feeling his cheeks heat up and knowing he was practically begging for affection. He felt he sounded needy, desperate – he waited for Roger to laugh at him. 

“That’d be lovely,” Roger said, his face breaking into a broad smile. 

*

Crystal awakened to Roger’s little sounds of distress. Roger was flinging himself about in the bed and much as Crystal hated not being able to hold him close he was glad he was not in the way of Roger’s flailing fists. He heard Roger gasp. “You’re all right, Canary, you’re safe,” he told Roger. 

Roger made a little whining noise that broke Crystal’s heart. He sat on the edge of Roger’s bed and wrapped his arms around Roger. Roger was shaking again. “You’re all right, Rog,” he murmured. 

“Sorry,” Roger gulped. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Crystal told him. 

They curled up together in Crystal’s bed and Crystal pulled Roger close to him. “Is it always the same dream?” Crystal wondered. 

“I’d rather not, please,” Roger informed him in a clipped voice.

“Okay, Canary, no amateur counselling from me,” Crystal agreed, “Let’s get some kip – it’s cloth over cage time, little Songbird.”

*

“G’ morning,” Roger mumbled as Crystal groggily opened one eye. “It looks like another lovely day,” he grinned, “for our holiday!”

Crystal wanted to press his lips to Roger’s forehead and tell him they could just spend the day in bed. But it was better if they didn’t get too close. Too close like being entwined in one bed, the little voice in his head laughed and Crystal silently told it to fuck off. He wondered if everyone’s internal voices were smart arses or if it was just him. His little voice asked mockingly what made him think everyone had a little voice in their head and he gave a little huff of annoyance. 

“Are you regretting giving everyone the day off?” Roger asked, interpreting his huff the wrong way. 

“No, Canary, I want the day off too,” Crystal grinned. 

*

Over breakfast Phoebe proposed taking a picnic to a viewpoint along the coast road. “That sounds lovely,” Brian agreed. 

Roger looked troubled. “How long a drive is it?” he asked softly. 

“Oh,” Freddie looked stricken, “Sorry, darling, it was just an idea...”

Roger shook his head. “You should go, of course, but if it involves twisty roads and a longer drive I might give it a miss.”

“I have some errands to run in town,” Crystal told them, “So I’ll give the picnic a miss too.” He thought Freddie gave him a knowing look and told himself he must have imagined it. Besides, there was nothing for Freddie to know. Yeah, the annoying voice in his head piped up – nothing to see here, please move on. 

*

Roger accompanied him into town once the others had all departed for the viewpoint. They split up, however. Crystal headed towards the bank. Roger went to look at the small bookshop. “I’ll see you back at the car in about an hour?” Crystal suggested and Roger nodded. 

Roger was waiting next to the car when Crystal arrived back in the car park. He was carrying bag with the bookshop logo on it. “Did you find something good?” Crystal asked, nodding at the bag. He thought Roger looked slightly worried. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

Roger nodded. He gestured to the bag. “I asked the lady in the bookshop if she had any books on local history that would mention World’s End House. She had a couple of things.” He took a deep breath, “And she told me some of the more recent history.”

“About me?” Crystal asked. 

Roger nodded again. “I wasn’t prying,” he said, “At least, that wasn’t my intention.”

Crystal sighed. He gestured to the car. “Hop in,” he said, “I’ll tell you my version of events.”

“You don’t have to,” Roger assured him. “It’s none of my business.”

“It isn’t any of your business,” Crystal agreed, “But I’d like to know what the gossipy old cow told you,” he grumbled as he clipped his seat belt into place. 

*

The drive back to the house was silent. Roger followed Crystal into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Crystal sat at the table and rubbed his eyes. “What did she tell you?”

“She said you’d been taken into care,” Roger told him. He made tea and set a mug in front of Crystal. He placed a plate of biscuits on the table and settled himself opposite Crystal with his own mug of tea.

“Yeah,” Crystal agreed, “When I was six I was taken away from my mother.”

“What happened?” Roger asked. 

“What did the old bat tell you?” Crystal demanded. 

“She said that your mother – Grace – had grown up round here. That your grandparents were well-off but that Grace was a handful,” Roger told him. 

Crystal snorted, “A handful,” he scoffed. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to describe her.”

“The lady in the shop said Grace had supposedly had an affair with a teacher at her school and had then run away from home. She said that your grandparents were sick with worry,” Roger continued. 

Crystal shrugged. “Yeah, well, they never seemed all that interested in me and I always got the impression they were relieved to see the back of Grace,” he muttered. He sipped his tea. “What else did she say?”

Roger turned his mug in his hands. “She said that Grace had returned with a group of people she referred to as layabouts and ruffians and they took over the Dean farmhouse?”

“Ruffians, eh,” Crystal grinned, “She had me in tow by then,” he told Roger, his grin fading. “The group was mostly men apart from Grace and Beth. Beth used to look after me. Thinking back on it now I think Beth was probably very young herself. I thought of her as an adult at the time but I think she might have been a teenager.” He shuddered. “Some of the men were quite a lot older.”

The farmhouse draughty and had a leaky roof and the group weren’t very good at farming so there was never all that much to eat. “They weren’t all that keen on having a little kid present either,” Crystal told Roger. “If I was too noisy or cried too much or laughed too loudly – if I was too anything – they used to smack me and lock me in the cellar. That’s why I’m not keen on the cellar here. And one of them dangled me out of one of the top floor windows as a punishment once. That’s why I’m not keen on being up on the roof. I know it’s silly...” 

Another memory was trying to surface of the roof here but that was ridiculous because Crystal had not been here as a child. Someone had been singing. People in party clothes had been laughing and drinking. Someone had screamed. But that could not be a real memory because he had never been here as a child.

“It’s not silly, Crystal,” Roger assured him softly. 

“Yeah, well, Grace was usually too drunk to notice or care. I don’t know who called the police but one day they arrived and took me away.” Crystal shrugged. “And that was that. I didn’t see Grace again until I was an adult.”

Roger frowned. “Your grandparents were living nearby but they didn’t intervene?” he queried. 

Crystal shrugged again. “They might have tried,” he said, “I don’t recall them coming to the house or anything but I was six, I might not remember. I wouldn’t have known who they were.”

“And they didn’t step in when you were taken into care?” Roger noted.

“When I met my grandmother – this was years later as an adult – she said they felt they would have been too old to cope,” Crystal told him. “I was in some children’s homes and then a few different foster homes and then a foster parent adopted me.”

“But they were nice to you?” Roger sounded anxious.

“Yeah, it was all just peachy once they took me in,” Crystal muttered. He sighed. “It was...okay...” he said. “It was...Jo...my foster mum...my adopted mum, later...She was really nice. I was...You’re gonna find this hard to believe, Canary, but I was probably quite difficult. I appreciate her more now than I did then. And it kind of smarted that my own actual family didn’t want me.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if they could find Grace,” he muttered. 

“I’m sorry,” Roger told him.

“Yeah, well, it’s all water under the bridge now,” Crystal said. 

“But you met your blood relatives again later?” Roger noted. 

Crystal nodded. “Grace sent me a letter through the social services department when I was eighteen. She said she’d been sober for three years at that point and she was sorry and she’d like to see me, blah, blah, blah. So I met her. She was running a gift shop in the town. Things made out of driftwood or shells, you know the sort of thing. She lived above the shop. My grandmother was widowed by then and they had a fragile relationship. I met her, too, my grandmother – Faith. It was...I found it hard to get past the fact that they had effectively just abandoned me.”

Roger nodded. “It must have been hard,” he sympathised.

“Yeah, and now you know so let’s not talk of it any further, eh, Canary?” Crystal commanded. 

Roger nodded again. “Okay,” he agreed. “So...um...I assume you weren’t expecting to have the issues you found yourself having with the roof and the cellar?”

Crystal grinned. “I’ve never been good with heights or enclosed spaces even if they are quite large enclosed spaces. But I thought I could just force myself. Then, when I tried to go into the cellar with Miami I had a full blown panic attack and the same happened when I tried to go on to the roof.”

“You managed to get on to the roof to tell everyone you weren’t pleased about them being there,” Roger pointed out. 

“Yeah, but I very nearly peed my pants,” Crystal confessed. He considered this. “It felt a bit easier with you there, though,” he added, feeling slightly shy about this admission. He pushed aside the murmur of the little voice in his head noting that the same memories (although they could not actually be memories) of people partying and then a scream seemed to surface and distress him each time he tried to venture on to the roof. 

“Maybe we could try it again sometime, then?” Roger suggested softly.

“Amateur aversion therapy,” Crystal snorted, “Yeah, maybe it would be worth a try,” he conceded. He sipped his tea. “Not today, though.”

“No,” Roger agreed, “Not today.”

*

They went for a walk, paddling along the shore away from the town towards a rockier area and Crystal took Roger to the cave. “Oh, this is wonderful!” Roger beamed, twirling around in the cave. “How far back does it go?”

They walked to the back. “The water never gets that deep in here and it’s dry at the back unless there is a really high tide or a storm, I think,” Crystal told Roger. “There are steps at the back that lead up onto the top of the cliff and apparently it’s thought that smugglers used the cave.”

“Ooh,” Roger peered up the narrow steps carved out of the rock. “Have you gone up these?”

“Yeah,” Crystal nodded, “They’re quite steep.”

“Another day, maybe,” Roger laughed, “It’s too hot to be clambering up steep steps!” He jumped down from the bottom step onto the sand and stumbled.

“Careful, Canary,” Crystal growled. Roger looked up at him through his impossibly long eyelashes and then pressed his lips against Crystal’s lips. 

It was a short firm kiss. A statement of intent, Crystal thought. He placed his hand on the small of Roger’s back pushing him closer and returned the kiss – longer and more urgent this time. 

Roger batted his ridiculous eyelashes at Crystal. “Should we go back to our room?” he suggested in a deliciously husky voice.

Crystal kissed him again in response. There should be no words now – only kissing. He did like hearing Roger though. He nodded. 

*

When the knock on the bedroom door went unanswered, John opened it. He had expected to find Roger and Crystal napping but he had not expected to find them snuggled together in the same bed. “Five more minutes,” Crystal murmured drowsily, then suddenly snapped to attention and sat bolt upright. “Uh...”

“Erm...Dinner’s ready,” John told him, feeling his own cheeks heat up.

“Okay, thank you, we’ll be right down,” Crystal gasped, reaching out his hand and gently shaking Roger, who gave a little groan of protest. 

*

John returned to the kitchen slowly. “They were having a nap,” he announced, thinking he had managed to sound perfectly normal although he was still trying to process Roger-and-Crystal – Crystal-and-Roger. “They’ll be down in a minute.”

Freddie smiled as Crystal and a sleepy-looking Roger entered the kitchen shortly afterwards. “Aw, look at you two – bless you – taking a little afternoon nap like toddlers!”

“Must’ve dozed off in the heat,” Roger mumbled. “How was your trip?”

The talk of the trip to the viewpoint lasted for most of the meal. “There’s a ruined castle up there,” Brian noted. “Do you think this tower was some sort of watchtower?” 

“It’s not really near the castle,” Miami noted, “but I suppose it’s possible if the same aristocratic family controlled the whole area. They maybe had people at various outposts. There’s an old farmhouse that’s falling to bits too – I think it was once part of the estate.”

“I got some local history books today,” Roger remembered, “I must have a look at them and see if they mention this place.”

John asked how they had spent the day, avoiding looking at Crystal. Roger flushed a little and John smiled sweetly at him. Roger replied that they had gone into town then had paddled along the beach. “There’s a smuggler’s cave,” he told them, his eyes lighting up. 

“I’ve heard of this place,” Miami said, “but I’ve never been there.”

“We should all go and climb the steps one day,” Roger suggested. “I thought it was too hot today.”

“I can’t imagine this weather will last forever,” Phoebe sighed. “I’m sure there will be a cooler day shortly and we can go then.”

*

John cornered Roger as they were putting dishes away. “Crystal showed you his smuggler’s cave then?”

“Fuck off!” Roger giggled. Then he looked anxious. “John, I’m not sure...”

“Your secret is safe with me,” John assured him. “Are you okay?” he added. 

Roger nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Tell me if you’re not. If you need to talk, I’m here, okay?” John told him. 

“Thanks,” Roger looked touched, “That means a lot, actually.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Freddie demanded. “Are you up to no good?”

“Always,” Roger laughed.

*

The following day they returned to work. It was hot and sunny again. They watched a weather forecast on the little television in the kitchen at breakfast and the forecaster mentioned a chance of thunderstorms over the next couple of days.

“If it rains we can stop working on the wall and everyone can help with the painting,” Crystal noted. 

*

John thought that on the one hand Roger’s relationship with Crystal was none of his business yet on the other hand he was concerned about Roger. If Crystal hurt Roger then John would kill him. 

He was also worried about the prospect of a storm. “Has there been a storm since...y’ know...?” he asked Brian vaguely. Brian was holding the ladder while John put a new light fitting in a large storage room off the main hallway.

“Since...The Accident?” Brian clarified, “There must have been, mustn’t there? I don’t think I’ve been with Roger during a storm since then though.” he murmured. “How do you think he’ll take it?”

“Badly?” John hazarded a guess. “I don’t know,” he sighed, “Maybe it will be okay but I do worry it will be a trigger...”

“Perhaps we won’t have a storm here,” Brian hoped, “Maybe it will pass us by.”

“Perhaps,” John muttered feeling doubtful. 

*

When they were washing dishes after lunch Freddie raised the same topic with John. He lowered his voice glancing towards Roger who was wiping the table. “Do you think Roggie will be okay if there is a storm?” he wondered. 

“No,” John replied, “Or, at least, I’m worried he won’t be.”

Freddie nodded, biting his lip. He looked very young and very vulnerable and John wanted to sweep him into a fierce hug but the kitchen seemed entirely too crowded and public for that, although he didn’t think anyone would mind. “Should we tell Crystal?”Freddie asked. 

For a moment John thought Freddie knew about Roger-and-Crystal and wondered how he had realised then he guessed Freddie meant something different. “Do you mean in case there’s a storm overnight?” he queried. 

Freddie nodded. “Rog seems to trust him. They get on well together.”

They certainly did, John thought. “It’s not our story to tell,” he murmured. “Maybe we should suggest to Rog it might be wise to let Crystal know a storm might trouble him.”

“Would you like me to suggest it to him, darling,” Freddie asked. 

“Yes, please,” John nodded, adding, “He’ll listen to you.”

*

“Are you okay?” Crystal asked as Roger emerged from the bathroom last night.

Roger bit his lip and looked like he was around five years old. “Um...Freddie thinks I should tell you...I might not be...If there is a storm...”

“Are you scared of storms, little Canary?” Crystal asked, torn between wanting to tease Roger about this and sensing that he was very troubled by it.

“Not exactly,” Roger mumbled. “I...Something bad happened in a storm.”

“Oh,” Crystal pulled Roger into a hug. “Can you tell me about the bad thing?” he asked gently. 

Roger shook his head. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

“That’s okay, Canary. Thank you for telling me about the storm issue. I’ll be right here for you, okay?” Crystal kissed him. 

“Thank you,” Roger said once Crystal had released him.

*

The weather was sultry, Roger thought. It was a heavy heat, slightly suffocating. A good storm to clear the air was just what was needed.

And once upon a time he would have enjoyed the drama and spectacle of a storm. Now he was not sure how he would feel. 

He carefully placed another stone in the wall. Shutting them in, he thought and then felt annoyed at allowing such gloomy thoughts to creep in. Keeping them safe, that was a better way to think of it.

The sky was still cloudless by lunchtime. The sun was still shining hotly down on them. But Roger thought there was a storm coming. The air felt charged. 

He was probably just being melodramatic, though. He was apprehensive about a storm so his mind was conjuring one up. Storm aversion therapy. Crystal had not tried to go into the cellar or up onto the roof with him. Really, they should probably both be seeking out professional help. Roger sighed. 

“You okay, Canary?” Crystal asked.

Roger nodded. “Yeah, fling another rock up here!” he laughed. He felt if he acted like nothing was too serious nothing would be too serious. Sometimes it even worked. 

*

The storm clouds rolled in looming darkly and menacingly over the tower late in the afternoon. After their evening meal Roger sucked on his cigarette, perching on the stone bench next to Crystal. “It might still miss us,” Crystal suggested. Roger thought they both knew it wouldn’t.

It grew darker. John and Miami looked out candles and torches in case the power went out. They heard a low rumble of thunder and then heavy rain began to fall as if a gigantic heavenly tap had been turned on. Rain sluiced down the windowpanes. They could hear it falling – gushing – down.

The darkness of the kitchen was pierced by lightning arcing across the sky. A few people said, “Ooh!” Roger was afraid that he might have made a squeakier sound. 

They were all sitting around the table. Roger hesitated then got up and walked over to Crystal, perching on his knee. Crystal wrapped his arms around him. “You’re all right, Canary,” he murmured. “You’re safe in here. You’re safe with us.”

Roger was aware of a few raised eyebrows. It was Brian who asked, “Are you two...um...?”

“Yeah,” Crystal replied. His voice seemed to contain an unspoken ‘and if you don’t like it you can fuck off’.

Roger adjusted his position so he was sitting more fully on Crystal’s lap. Lightning lit the room again and he flinched.

John rose and tried flicking the light switch. “Looks like the power has gone out,” he said. 

Roger’s breath hitched and he hated himself slightly. Thunder roared sounding right overhead now. “You’re okay, Canary,” Crystal assured him. 

The room was almost pitch black now – a startling contrast to the frequent flashes of lightning. “This is really quite spectacular,” Phoebe said.

Roger pressed his face to Crystal’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of him – the softness of his well-worn t-shirt. Crystal gently rubbed his back. “It’ll be over soon,” Crystal murmured. 

*

Crystal was wrong. The storm raged with startling ferocity for hours. Rain battered the tower. Lightning illuminated it. Thunder exploded above it. 

The occupants had all retired to their respective rooms although the chances of being able to sleep seemed slim. Crystal had carried Roger up to their room as if he was a blushing bride. Roger lay quivering next to him like a frightened virginal bride on her wedding night he thought. Crystal’s hands roamed gently over his body as if he was attempting to soothe a startled cat by stroking them. 

“Thank you,” Roger muttered, adding sadly, “I used to like storms, once.” 

“Can you tell me what happened, little Songbird?” Crystal asked. 

“Not now,” Roger mumbled, pressing his face against Crystal’s chest as thunder growled at them. 

“Okay,” Crystal murmured, “Everything’s okay, Rog.”

*

Brian was pacing around the bedroom, tugging at his hair. “Did you both know?”

“I had no idea,” Freddie replied, “Although I did think they were getting on awfully well.”

John reluctantly confessed that he had walked in on them in bed the day before. They both screeched variations of ‘and you’re only just telling us this now?’ at him. 

“Roger wasn’t ready for it to become public knowledge,” John protested. 

“We’re not the public!” Freddie fumed, “We’re family!” 

“That’s probably worse for a new relationship,” John muttered. 

Freddie frowned. “Do we think Crystal is suitable for Roger?” he asked. 

Brian snorted. “Roger isn’t the virginal heroine of a period drama, Freddie,” he pointed out, “He doesn’t need us to check that Crystal isn’t some dastardly bounder!”

“Well,” John muttered, “he does need to be protected from being preyed on by dodgy blokes, doesn’t he?”

Freddie nodded his agreement, “Exactly, John, if we don’t protect him then who will?”

“I’m pretty sure he won’t welcome any interference,” Brian warned them. 

“We’re just taking an interest in his life, darling,” Freddie declared airily, “Where’s the harm in that?”

*

The storm had gradually moved away through the night and Crystal and Roger had fallen asleep tangled together. Roger had awakened with a jolt following his nightmare and had found Crystal holding him tightly. 

Roger pressed his face against Crystal’s t-shirt. “It was all flowers and thoughtful little gifts and romantic candlelit dinners for two, at first,” he mumbled abruptly. “And then the criticism started. My hair would be wrong or my clothes would be wrong or I would have said something silly and embarrassed him or my cooking wouldn’t be up to scratch...I mean...He might have had a point about that,” Roger gave an unhappy little laugh with no amusement in it. “And it was just words at first. And I’d try to make him happy but I never got it right and I began to think I really was as worthless as he told me I was.”

“Whoever he is I can tell you’re worth a million of him, Roggie,” Crystal told him fiercely.

“Thank you,” Roger took a deep breath, “And then it wasn’t words. It started with a shove – then a slap – then a punch. The words continued too. By that point I’d become isolated from my family and friends. That had happened so gradually I wasn’t really aware of it. He’d told me I was too stupid for college and eventually I dropped out of my course. He worked in a bank. I was dependent on him for money then. Freddie came to the house to see how I was – he never stopped trying to see me and I’m really grateful for that.”

Crystal gently stroked Roger’s hair. “Good for Freddie,” he mumbled.

“To progress in the bank he wanted to learn how to play golf,” Roger said shakily, “And I went to the golf club with him. I hadn’t seen any weather forecast that mentioned a storm. I was doing better than he was and he wasn’t taking it well. He had just slapped my face when...The bolt of lightning seemed to come from nowhere...I read about it afterwards. Apparently lightning can strike from a storm up to ten miles away. He was killed instantly.” Roger shuddered. “It was...horrible.”

“It must have been very distressing for you but regarding his death I’m going to have to say ‘good’ here,” Crystal told Roger. He was relieved when Roger rewarded him with a shaky smile. 

“I called an ambulance,” Roger continued, “but it was too late.” He sighed, “He wasn’t very nice to me but I would never have wanted him dead.”

“I’m so sorry, Roggie,” Crystal murmured, “Did you speak to someone about it?” he wondered, “A counsellor?”

Roger shook his head. “I saw the doctor because...Well, at first I wasn’t sleeping at all really...And he referred me to a counsellor but I...I got as far as the door of the building and...I just couldn’t.”

Crystal nodded. “One of Phoebe’s friends in the town gives counselling sessions,” he told Roger, “If you feel it might be useful now.”

“Have you seen Phoebe’s friend?” Roger asked. 

Crystal shook his head, “No, but I’m starting to think maybe I should.”

“It was his flat, of course so I had to move in with the others although as they are all in a relationship I don’t think that can be a long term thing, y’ know?” Roger told him. 

Crystal nodded. “Stay here with me,” he suggested. Then his face fell, “I suppose you need to go back to your studies, though.”

“I thought about going back to college after...But I’ve never done anything about it,” Roger mumbled, peeking at Crystal from beneath his eyelashes, “so I can stay with you.”

“Good,” Crystal kissed Roger fiercely. 

*

“Phoebe, dear, I need to know everything about Crystal,” Freddie said firmly as they resumed work outlining the mural for the dining room. “If he is going to be seeing Roger I need to know all about him.”

“Oh, well, it’s not really my place to say,” Phoebe protested, “You’d be best asking Crystal.”

“I will,” Freddie nodded, “but I want to hear what you think about him.”

“He’ll be lovely to Roger,” Phoebe assured him.

“He better be,” Freddie sniffed, “Come on, Phoebe, tell me about him. Had you met him before he inherited your cottage?”

Phoebe explained that they had rented the cottage from Crystal’s grandmother. She lived in one of the large houses on the hill at the back of Solum Bay. Phoebe and Miami had gathered from town gossip that the family were wealthy, owning the then abandoned tower, the cottage, the large house on the hill and the seafront gift shop and flat where Crystal’s mother lived and worked. 

They had visited the shop and met Grace. “She seemed very nice. She was friendly and welcoming. She was in the book club we joined and the knitting club I joined. Everyone seemed fond of her,” Phoebe told Freddie. “It was the bookshop owner, Mrs Sharp, who told us that Grace had a drinking problem although she acknowledged that Grace had been sober for years at that point. She said that Grace’s child had been taken away from her.” Phoebe looked uncomfortable. “It was none of our business, of course.”

Freddie nodded, “But this is a small town, dear, so you would inevitably hear gossip.”

“Grace came to tell us that her mother had died,” Phoebe told him, “She was sad, of course, but she seemed to be coping. Then a few days after the funeral she came to see us again and this time it was clear she had been drinking. She said that her mother had left everything to her son including our cottage. We gave her some coffee, tried to sober her up a bit. Miami gave her a lift home. We weren’t sure what her son inheriting the cottage would mean for us but we’d always paid the rent on time and we had a rental agreement so we thought we should at least have time to find somewhere else to stay.”

Phoebe went on to explain that Crystal had arrived around a week later. He had turned up at the cottage asking if they had a spare key for his mother’s flat as he did not have a key and she wasn’t answering the door. “We didn’t have a key,” Phoebe told Freddie, “so Miami took Crystal to the police station to explain the situation to them. The police forced open the door for him and they apparently discovered his mother’s dead body in the bathtub in her little flat.”

“How horrible,” Freddie shuddered, “Poor Crystal.” He considered this, “Does Crystal also own the shop and the house on the hill?”

“We think so,” Phoebe nodded, “although we don’t think he’s been back to the shop, at least. Miami brought him back to our place and he stayed with us for a while. We thought after what had happened...We didn’t feel he should be on his own. And we both liked him from the start. We both really like him. Honestly, Freddie, I think Roger is in good hands.” 

Freddie frowned. “Roger’s been through a lot too,” he murmured anxiously. 

*

Phoebe’s friend was called Dominique and her office was above the newsagent’s in Solum Bay. Their first appointments were back to back so that Crystal could wait, his foot tapping nervously on the floor, while Roger saw Dominique first.

Freddie had offered to come too. “In case Roggie needs someone with him while he’s waiting for you, Crystal.”

“I’ll be fine,” Roger had insisted. “I appreciate the offer, Freddie, but really there’s no need for everyone to go.”

And Roger had seemed quite composed when he emerged from Dominique’s office. He had nodded when Crystal had given him a quick hug and asked if he was okay. “I’m proud of you,” Crystal had murmured to him before stepping into the office. 

The office was all soothing pastel colours and comfortable chairs with boxes of tissues on every table. Crystal had not thought he would cry but found that he was bawling by the time Dominique ushered him back out to the waiting room where he sniffled while Roger made their next appointments with the receptionist.

Roger offered to drive them back to the house. “Nice try, Canary, but I’m not that distressed,” Crystal assured him. 

Roger grinned. “Did you find it cathartic?”

“Yeah, I think I needed a good sob. How did you get on?” Crystal ruffled Roger’s hair. 

“It was...I’m not sure what I expected but...I found it easier to talk to her than I thought I would,” Roger told him. 

*

“This place is a folly,” Roger told them over dinner. “I finally got round to reading the little historical book while I was waiting for Crystal and the rich geezer who owned the castle provided jobs by having this place built when times were hard.”

“I didn’t think follies were normally habitable,” Brian said. 

“I don’t know a lot about them,” Roger shrugged, “This place was built for no other purpose than to provide work for people when times were tough. It has been used though – mostly for storage but apparently you were right John – there were people imprisoned here. The area had been pretty much cut off by snow – this was in 1850-something – and there had been a series of violent robberies in the surrounding towns and villages. The men responsible were caught and because they couldn’t take them to the usual prison to await trial they locked them up here.”

Freddie shuddered. “How unpleasant,” he muttered. 

“That would explain the marks on the wall in the cellar,” John noted. 

“Did it say anything about how Crystal’s family came to own it?” Miami wondered. 

Roger nodded. “It says the tower and the nearby cottage were won in a poker game by a member of the family who still own them today,” he informed them, “It doesn’t give a name, though.”

Crystal looked sad, “I’m not sure who would know, now,” he murmured. 

*

They camped in one of the attic rooms while Freddie painted two love-birds on the wall of their bedroom. Crystal had removed the extra bed in his room shortly after the storm. “I don’t care if you accidentally hit me,” he told Roger firmly, “I want you in my bed anyway.”

“Very masterful,” Roger had giggled, “Don’t I get a say in where I want to sleep?”

“No,” Crystal had growled, adding, “You do, of course...”

“Well, if you’re willing to take the risk of me hitting you by accident then I’m prepared to put up with your snoring,” Roger laughed.

Now, they were snuggled together on a mattress on the floorboards of one of the attic rooms. “This is surprisingly romantic,” Roger murmured. 

“It’s going to wreck my back,” Crystal sighed. “This whole house is going to wreck my back,” he added.

“That’s my job,” Roger murmured.

“Well, if you find this romantic,” Crystal said, “then perhaps we should test the mattress and see just how much damage you can do to my poor aching back.”

Roger kissed him and murmured, “I promise I’ll be gentle with you since you’re such a fragile old man.”

*

After the storm it had continued to be dry and sunny but not quite as hot. Miami, Crystal and Roger stood back to admire the wall which they had just slotted the last stone into. “It looks great!” Roger beamed. 

“I think we did a good job,” Miami agreed. 

Crystal nodded. “I think we’ve earned a beer.” 

*

Phoebe and Miami moved back to the cottage as the painting began in earnest. “It’s easier if we are out of the way,” Miami noted, “but we’ll be back most days to help.”

“We’ll miss you guys,” Crystal told them.

“You’ll probably hardly notice we’ve gone,” Phoebe predicted. 

The tower felt much emptier, though, especially at mealtimes. And Crystal definitely missed Phoebe’s cooking. 

The summer was drawing to an end and Crystal thought that the London zebras would soon be going back to their natural habitat of lecture halls and libraries and clubs and parties. He’d overheard John on the phone to a landlord making arrangements to rent a flat. 

Crystal was carefully avoiding asking Roger if he would be going with them. 

*

They waited until Crystal had gone to the supermarket to corner Roger. “Darling, we need to talk,” Freddie announced dramatically. 

“It’s not me, it’s you,” Roger grinned, “You need to know if I’m...?”

“Going to come back to London with us,” Freddie laughed, gently punching Roger’s arm, “You idiot!”

Roger’s face fell. “I suppose I’m the one who needs to talk to Crystal about that,” he sighed.

“We’ve taken our old flat,” John said briskly, “so we can manage the rent between the three of us but the little box-room is yours to sleep in if you want it. Of course, if you want us to look for somewhere for four we can do...?”

Roger shook his head. “It’s really kind of you to think of me at all.” he mumbled, “I’ll talk to Crystal when he gets back, I promise.” 

“There’s no rush,” Brian said softly.

“We’re due to leave at the end of next week,” John pointed out, “I mean, we don’t need an answer right now, obviously...”

“But there is sort of a rush,” Roger grinned, “Got it!”

*

Roger raised the subject when he was sitting on the stone bench having a cigarette with Crystal after dinner. “We’re due to go back to London at the end of next week,” he noted. 

“You are,” Crystal agreed. He looked at Roger. “Are you going to?”

“I...Do I have a choice?” Roger asked. 

“There’s always a choice, little Canary,” Crystal told him. He reached out and let his fingers tangle in Roger’s hair. “You’re free as a bird,” he grinned, adding seriously, “You’re very welcome to stay here.”

“I’d like that,” Roger smiled. 

“Good,” Crystal gave a little shaky sigh, “I was scared you were going to say you couldn’t wait to get back to the city,” he confessed. 

Roger shook his head. “I don’t miss the city at all,” he said, “I thought I would but it’s...good...here. And we can always visit them.”

“We?” Crystal echoed.

“Yeah,” Roger nodded, “If you want to?” he added uncertainly, biting his lip. 

Crystal kissed him. “I’d love to,” he assured Roger. 

“You don’t think I’m running away?” Roger asked.

Crystal shrugged. “You don’t think I’m trying to keep you cooped up here? Like a pretty little canary in a cage?”

“You’re not going to lock me up are you?” Roger laughed then his face fell, “Sorry, Crystal, I didn’t mean...”

Crystal shook his head, “No offence taken. And no, I’m not going to lock you up, in the cellar or anywhere else! Also, since you’re seeing Dominique I’m not sure the option of staying here is the easy one – I don’t think you’re running away.”

“I suppose I could see someone in London,” Roger noted, “but I feel comfortable with Dom. And I like being with you.”

“I should hope so,” Crystal grinned. He wrapped his arms around Roger and kissed him. 

They sat kissing for a while. When they broke apart Roger said, “Besides, I really don’t want to make that journey again.” And they both laughed. 

*

“I’ve been remembering things...” Crystal said haltingly one morning as they were snuggled against each other in bed.

“What kind of things?” Roger asked. 

“Things about the farmhouse,” Crystal mumbled, “Except I’m not entirely sure they are all memories. It’s all a bit hazy.”

“Are you talking to Dom about them?” Roger wondered. 

Crystal nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “They might just be...It might be nothing.”

“Do you want to tell me?” Roger asked softly. 

Crystal shook his head. “Not just now, but thank you.” 

*

The woman arrived a few days before they were due to leave. John met her walking up the driveway. He’d gone into town for groceries and found her there when he returned. “Can I help you?” he asked. 

She was older than his mother, he thought. A small woman with neatly bobbed brown hair – dyed presumably – wearing a pale blue dress and a yellow cardigan. She looked startled when he spoke to her. “Are you Mr Taylor?” she asked. 

John shook his head. “Is it Crystal you’re looking for? Chris Taylor,” he asked. It must be, surely. No one would be looking for Roger here. 

“Yes,” she agreed, “Crystal,” she said sounding uncertain.

John hesitated for a moment. He was reluctant to invite her in and leave her alone while he searched for Crystal. She could be anyone, after all. He was relieved to see Roger emerge from the house. “Rog,” he called, “This lady is here to see Crystal.”

Roger smiled at the lady. “I’ll go and find him,” he suggested. 

John led the woman, who had not offered a name, into the kitchen and politely offered her a cup of tea or coffee as he stowed the shopping in the cupboards and refrigerator. She accepted a cup of tea.

They both looked up as Crystal entered. “Mr Taylor?” the woman asked. 

Crystal nodded. “Yeah, I’m Crystal,” he told her.

“I’ll leave you to it,” John said lightly. He was not surprised to find Roger lurking in the corridor.

“What do you think she wants?” Roger wondered.

John shrugged. “I don’t know,” he murmured.

*

Crystal sat opposite his visitor. “How can I help you?” he asked. 

The woman fiddled with her mug of tea. “My name is Felicity Pearson,” she said, “I believe you may have known my daughter, Elizabeth. Beth.”

Crystal held his breath for a moment. “Yes,” he croaked. “Yes, I knew Beth when I was a child.” He sipped his own tea. “I...She...I haven’t seen her since I was six,” he informed the woman. 

Felicity Pearson looked sad. “No one has,” she said simply. “She ran away from home just before her eighteenth birthday and I haven’t seen her since.”

Crystal frowned. “How did you find me?” he asked. He could feel panic rising within him accompanied by the troublesome images of a party on the roof here. People laughing and drinking, smoking and singing – then a scream.

He forced himself to take deep breaths and calm down as Beth’s mother explained that she had received a postcard from Beth from Castleton which was the small village near the castle. “My husband and I came looking for her, of course,” Mrs Pearson explained, “and we found that she had been living with a group of people in the farmhouse near the castle but no one was there by the time we arrived. We never heard from her again.”

“Why have you come back now?” Crystal asked. 

“I left contact details with the couple who ran the post office – they’ve retired now but their son still runs the post office. They let me know when your mother returned to the area – I knew she had been one of the people living at the farmhouse back then. I came to see her to find out if she knew where my Beth had gone.” She sipped her tea. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She did not sound particularly sorry, Crystal thought. “And what did my mother tell you?” he asked. 

“She said Beth had just disappeared. One day she had been there and the next she had gone. She presumably left in the middle of the night. Your mother indicated that the...commune...or whatever they were...was breaking up by then anyway. She said lots of people had moved on.” Mrs Pearson sounded unsure about this as if she could not quite believe what Grace had told her.

“The people did change,” Crystal agreed.

“Do you remember my Beth leaving? Did she say anything to you?” Mrs Pearson asked eagerly. “Grace said she was fond of you.”

“She was...” Crystal cleared his throat, “She was very kind to me,” he told her. “She spent a lot of time with me...” He sighed. “No, she didn’t mention leaving to me,” he said. The look of disappointment on Mrs Pearson’s face was almost unbearable and he thought that was why he added, “But I...I’ve been seeing a counsellor about...I’ve been starting to remember more about that period of time...”

And so he ended up with her contact details in case he recalled anything further about Beth.

*

“Do you want to talk about it?” Roger asked softly that night when it was Crystal’s turn to disturb Roger’s sleep as he had an unsettling dream. 

Crystal’s initial reaction was to shake his head but he paused. “I can’t exactly recall it,” he muttered.

“What do you recall?” Roger wondered. 

Crystal shrugged. “I think...Since I came back here...I think maybe something did happen on the roof. I have memories of a party. Of people dressed up in party clothes and drinking alcohol – they are holding those little champagne coupes and laughing but then someone screams.”

Roger gently stroked his back. “And you are watching them?” he prompted. 

Crystal nodded, pressing his face against the soft cotton fabric covering Roger’s shoulder. “I think I’m sitting at the top of the steps that lead up on to the roof,” he mumbled, “And I think someone is with me – possibly Beth but I’m not sure about that. I don’t know if I’m just...I don’t know if any of this is an actual memory...”

“What does Dom think?” Roger asked. 

“She thinks they are memories,” Crystal confessed, “Memories that I’ve suppressed.”

Roger held him a little tighter. “You’re safe here with me – with us,” he assured Crystal, “It’s safe to remember,” he told him.

Crystal desperately wanted to believe him but fear seemed to be gnawing at his stomach. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Roger soothed him, “That’s just fine...”

*

Crystal was surprised by how calm he felt. He’d been on the roof a few times now, always with Roger, but never for this long. 

It was the London zebras’ last night and they were up on the roof star-gazing. Brian was enthusiastically telling people what they were seeing and saying how lovely it was and how lucky they were to have such low levels of light pollution in the area. Miami and Phoebe had come over for the occasion and everyone was drinking champagne. Crystal had been a little unsure about that but now he had even had a glass of champagne himself. 

“Are you okay?” Roger asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Crystal nodded. “I’m...slightly anxious...not gonna lie...but I’m better than I thought I would be.” 

“We can go down any time you like,” Roger reminded him, “And I won’t leave you alone, I promise.” He considered this, “Unless you want me to.”

Crystal shook his head, “Stay, please,” he requested, adding, “You’re quite good company for a little yellow bird.”

“All the miners love their canaries,” Roger grinned. 

“I’d be useless down a mine,” Crystal pointed out, “I still can’t manage the cellar,” he muttered. 

“You will, love,” Roger assured him, “Dom will sort us out.”

*

It was when Roger lay down flat on his back on the roof (“Let’s see these stars properly.”) that Crystal began to scream. 

Phoebe whisked Crystal downstairs almost before John could register how distressed he was. They all started to follow then John came to his senses. “Give him space,” he suggested. Seeing Roger looking uncertain, having scrambled to his feet, he clarified, “Not you, Roggie – I think he might need you.”

*

Phoebe had settled Crystal on a chair in the kitchen and was talking to him in soothing tones as he made tea. Roger wrapped his arms around Crystal, hunching over him protectively. “Can you tell me about that?” he asked. 

Crystal shook his head. “Not just now,” he croaked. 

“Okay, love,” Roger murmured, “That’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

*

John thought the van still smelt faintly of vomit and rolled the window down a bit further. Freddie was hugging Roger for the umpteenth time and John reflected slightly impatiently that the traffic was going to be terrible if they didn’t leave soon.

Then he got out of the van to give Roger another hug himself. “If Crystal gives you any trouble just call and I’ll come and get you,” he muttered in Roger’s ear. “There must be plenty of places round here where you can hide a body so no one would ever find it.” He pulled Roger a little closer, “Has he told you why he freaked out last night?”

Roger gave a shaky laugh. “I’ll miss you guys,” he said, adding softly so that only John could hear, “No, he hasn’t told me yet.” 

“We’ll miss you too,” John noted. “If you need anything at all then you know where we are.”

Brian swooped in to hug Roger so John moved over to Crystal. “If you hurt him in any way whatsoever I will hunt you down and kill you,” John remarked pleasantly. 

“Understood,” Crystal nodded. “I won’t,” he added softly. 

“Good,” John nodded. He climbed back into the driver’s seat. He had enjoyed the summer, he thought. Having free reign with the electrics had taught him a lot and he felt he had grown in confidence as a result. He thought working at the tower had been good for all of them. He watched Crystal curve his arm around Roger, looking at him adoringly. He’d miss Roger, of course, but perhaps everyone had got what they needed over the summer. 

*

They waved until the van was no longer in sight. “Are you okay?” Crystal asked Roger softly.

“No,” Roger admitted in a quavering voice, “but I will be.”

Crystal held him tightly, pulling him close. “I love you,” he choked out.

“Oh,” Roger breathed, “I love you, too.” He kissed Crystal. “Shall we go back to bed?” he suggested cheerfully. 

*

Roger padded into the bedroom carrying a tray with mugs of tea and a plate with slices of cake on it. Crystal sat up, the bedcovers pooling around his waist. “I could get used to this kind of service,” he laughed. 

“Yeah, well, Phoebs brought the cake yesterday so don’t get too accustomed to that,” Roger grinned, setting the tray down carefully and scrambling on to the bed next to Crystal.

As they sipped their tea Crystal took a deep breath. “I remembered,” he told Roger. 

“Last night?” Roger clarified, “On the roof?”

Crystal nodded. “I...They held a party here...” he mumbled. 

They had needed cash and had persuaded their guests to pay for tickets – calling the party a charity fundraiser. They were the charity. “Charity begins at home,” Grace had trilled when one of the other people at the farmhouse had pointed out that what they were doing was not entirely legal. 

Crystal thought they had been selling drugs too which was even less legal. “I mean, I was six so it’s hard to be sure,” he muttered to Roger, “but the party guests seemed to be teenagers from the neighbouring towns and villages.”

Everyone had been dressed up in suits and party dresses. It had been a warm summer night and there had been lots of fat church candles burning on the roof.

One of the farmhouse men had suggested that Crystal ought to be locked in the cellar at the farmhouse while they were at the party but Beth, sensitive to Crystal’s terror at being locked in, had persuaded them that she could keep him quiet and out of the way. 

“She had long golden hair,” Crystal told Roger, “Lovely. A little bit like yours. And she’d put it up in a bun and she was wearing a long dress with swirls of pink and gold through it. She told me to sit on the staircase out of everyone’s way and be quiet.”

Crystal had done as he was told. He had been enjoying watching everyone drinking and chatting. 

“But?” Roger prompted him gently. 

“But there was a warm breeze that night which caught Beth’s dress which fluttered too close to a candle. And she was ablaze. Screaming,” Crystal gulped. 

“Oh, no...” Roger gasped. 

“Someone got her to lie down and they tried to beat out the flames but...I think it was too late,” Crystal whispered. “I...I think I blocked it out until...When you lay down last night...”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine. You’re safe,” Roger assured him.

“Well,” Crystal continued shakily after a moment, “They weren’t supposed to be there and I suspect there were drugs and...” He sighed. “No one went to fetch help or get an ambulance or...I think she died, Rog.”

Roger held him tightly. They sat in silence for a while. “Do you know what they did with her?” Roger asked. 

“I’m not certain,” Crystal said, “but in the garden at the farmhouse there was a little area where pets had been buried and I think...I think they might have...I think she might be there.”

*

Roger could feel Crystal trembling. “You’re doing brilliantly,” he murmured.

Crystal ignored him, scanning the ground in front of them. “There, I think,” he gulped, gesturing towards a patch of nettles near the crumbling wall at the edge of the wilderness that had once been the garden of the farmhouse, which was also practically falling down.

“Thank you, Mr Taylor,” the detective sergeant said softly, “You’ve been very helpful.”

Roger gently steered him back towards the car. “You’re safe,” he murmured, “Everything’s going to be okay.” Crystal was taking panicky gulps of air. “Just take nice deep breaths,” Roger advised him. “You’re okay, love.”

“Sorry,” Crystal gasped.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Roger assured him. “I’m really proud of you,” he added. 

*

Crystal didn’t think there was much to be proud of. He fumbled in his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter and clumsily lit a cigarette with badly shaking hands. Roger was gently rubbing his back. “Sorry,” he repeated. Even his voice was quivering. 

“It’s okay, Crys,” Roger murmured. 

“It’s not very okay for Beth’s parents, is it?” Crystal muttered, “And it wasn’t very okay for Beth.”

“You were a child, love,” Roger pointed out, “None of this is your fault. And your mind was trying to protect you by burying the memory. Beth’s parents know what happened to her now,” he added, “They’ll be able to give her a proper burial. You’ve allowed them that closure.”

Crystal sighed. He knew that what Roger was saying was correct but he also felt guilty that Beth had been forgotten for so long. “Mrs Pearson will come back...” he realised, feeling panic rising up in him again. 

“I’ll be with you,” Roger told him firmly, “And you were a child, Crys, she’ll understand that.”

“My mother must’ve known...” Crystal muttered unhappily. 

“You are not your mother,” Roger said, “And you are not responsible for her actions. You were a little boy, Crys. This is not your fault.”

*

True to his word Roger was by Crystal’s side when Mrs Pearson returned to World’s End, this time accompanied by the wiry watery-eyed Mr Pearson. Mrs Pearson was dry-eyed and angry. She was evidently trying not to be angry with Crystal but he understood that he was the nearest target. He was one of the last people to have seen Beth alive, after all. 

They were sitting at the kitchen table and beneath the table Roger’s hand was on Crystal’s knee. Crystal told Mr and Mrs Pearson as much as he could remember about the final months of their daughter’s life. When Mrs Pearson showed signs of impatience about how little he could recall Roger reminded her firmly that Crystal had been a small child at the time. “He suppressed his memories because they were too painful,” Roger added.

Mrs Pearson sniffed. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything else,” Crystal told her. 

Her face softened. “It’s not your fault, dear,” she said.

Her husband nodded. “And we know what happened now,” he whispered, “And terrible as it is, I think it’s better to know.”

*

When they had left London to work for Crystal for the summer the London zebras (Crystal still thought of them by that collective term) had stored the items of clothing and possessions they weren’t taking to World’s End with a friend. That meant that Roger’s warmer clothes were now in the flat the other zebras had rented.

It hadn’t been an issue at first as the weather had continued to be warm and mainly dry throughout September. But it was starting to get colder so Crystal suggested that they should go to London for the weekend and bring Roger’s other belongings home. 

“Home,” Roger smiled at him, “I like that!”

Crystal frowned. “This is your home,” he reminded Roger.

“Yes, but it’s nice to hear you say that,” Roger beamed. “And I’d love to go and see the others. I’ll ask which weekend would suit them best!”

*

Crystal had suggested that Roger should drive the first leg of the journey so that passed without incident. They stopped at a motorway service station to use the loos and get something to eat and then Crystal slid into the driving seat. Roger was holding a basin on his lap in the passenger seat. “Brian would say this” Roger indicated the receptacle “would put the thought of being sick into my head.”

“Yeah, well Brian wasn’t the one who scrubbed the foot-well of the van,” Crystal grunted. 

Roger grinned. “I might be okay,” he said hopefully.

“Try looking at the horizon,” Crystal suggested, “That’s supposed to help.”

“I think that might be for sea-sickness,” Roger told him, “but I’ll try anything.” 

*

“Oh, darling, was it a terrible journey?” Freddie made a sympathetic face as Roger wobbled away from the car and neatly vomited in the gutter.

“It wasn’t too bad,” Roger croaked.

John looked at Crystal, hovering awkwardly holding a large bowl Roger had evidently been sick into. “Um...Come in...” John invited him, leading him inside and upstairs to their flat. He indicated the bathroom and waited while Crystal emptied and rinsed out the bowl.

“Thanks,” Crystal said as he emerged empty-handed. “I’ll...um...disinfect that later...I’d better get our bags...”

John nodded. “I’ll put the kettle on,” he suggested.

As Crystal left again Freddie gently steered Roger into the flat. “Have a seat, darling,” he urged Roger, pulling out a chair from the table to allow Roger to sit down.

Brian and Crystal came in a few moments later carrying Roger and Crystal’s bags. Crystal squeezed Roger’s shoulder. “Do you want to brush your teeth?” he asked. 

*

Roger felt a little better once he’d brushed his teeth and washed his face. He gave Crystal a little tour of the flat which was the one he had previously stayed in with the others. They shared the large main bedroom but there was a small room which also had a bed in it where Roger had stayed. This was also where Crystal and Roger would be sleeping.

There wasn’t much room for anything other than the bed although all the things Roger had left behind were also crammed into the little room. “I hope there’s enough room in the car for all this junk,” Crystal sighed.

“It isn’t junk,” Roger protested. Crystal silently held aloft a headless plastic doll. “I don’t think that’s mine,” Roger puzzled, “I mean, some of it can go in the bin...”

*

They managed to disperse quite a few of Roger’s former possessions to the charity shop (old textbooks and old clothes) and to the re-cycling bins in the car-park of a nearby supermarket (a troubling number of empty wine bottles – “Don’t you ever throw anything out, Canary?”). Quite a few other items were thrown out, including the mangled doll, a tea-pot that was missing its spout and a cracked fish tank. (“I’m not sure where that came from – I’ve never had any fish.”)

Roger had been the proud owner of a couple of plants but these were flourishing under Brian’s care so he decided to leave them. (“I think Brian has bonded with them.”)

That left a few boxes of books and records plus Roger’s record-player and his warmer clothes. Crystal noted that he had a distinct lack of knit-wear and resolved to buy him the warmest jumpers he could find. “I have to say I thought you’d have more stuff,” he admitted. 

Roger shook his head. “Before...He liked to control what I wore...And...Afterwards...Well...”

Crystal revised buying Roger jumpers to ‘taking Roger shopping’. “I haven’t spent a winter at World’s End with the central heating system in place but I think even with heating it will probably be quite chilly so while we’re here maybe we could go to the shops? Get you some warm woolly things?”

Roger grinned. “A shopping trip – Freddie will love that!”

*

Freddie hadn’t figured in Crystal’s plans for shopping for warm clothes with Roger but he had to admit that Freddie was sticking admirably to the brief. “You need actual wool,” he told Roger, “Ideally from a sustainable source.”

“That sounds expensive,” Roger noted. “Remember, I’m unemployed.”

Crystal cleared his throat, “These are my treat,” he told Roger, “After all you wouldn’t need them if our house wasn’t so draughty.” Roger looked like he might protest so Crystal placed a finger against his lips, “I won’t take no for an answer, Canary.” 

Freddie’s eyes lit up. “Excellent, I can think of a few shops we could try, then.”

*

“This was too much,” Roger told Crystal softly as he carefully folded the new items of clothing Crystal had bought him and packed them. 

“Nonsense,” Crystal disagreed, “We got you hardly anything, really. And what we did get, you need.”

“It was very generous of you,” Roger said, kissing his cheek.

Crystal kissed him fiercely. “My money is your money,” he told Roger. 

“Yes, but...” Roger sighed. “I really must get a job.”

“No need to worry about that just now,” Crystal told him. “There’s no need to worry about anything just now – we’re about to go out to dinner with your friends – I’m going to ban worrying tonight.”

Roger grinned, “Okay,” he agreed, “I’ll defer worrying until later.”

*

John was surprised to find Roger in the kitchen early the following morning. “Couldn’t you sleep?” he asked. 

Roger shook his head. “I’m not looking forward to the journey,” he sighed. 

John gave him a hug. “I guess that’s the drawback of your rural location,” he noted, “Next time we’ll have to come and see you.”

Roger smiled, “That would be lovely.” 

John made them tea and toast and sat opposite Roger at the table. “How’s it going?” he asked. 

“It’s good,” Roger assured him. “I’ve been sleeping better since I started seeing Dom. Crystal’s been having more nightmares but since they found Beth’s body,” he gave a little shudder, “Crystal’s been sleeping easier too.” He fiddled with his mug. “I think the next step might be to persuade him to look at his mother’s shop and flat.”

John nodded. “Plenty of time for that, though, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Roger agreed, “there’s no rush.”

*

Crystal was surprised when Roger asked if he could take first shot at driving. “Of course, little bird, but I thought it would be more sensible if you did the twisty roads of the second half of the journey?”

Roger flushed and shook his head. “Yesterday indicated that I’ll be sick anyway,” he pointed out, “And if I...I don’t want to be unable to drive at all,” he explained.

“Oh, love,” Crystal pulled him into a hug.

“I’d do all the driving,” Roger mumbled, “But it’s a bit far...”

Crystal pressed a kiss to the top of Roger’s head. “I’m sorry it’s so shit for you, little Canary.”

“I’m used to it,” Roger noted. 

*

When they got home they found a little note in the kitchen from Phoebe saying he’d left homemade soup and cake for them. Crystal gently rubbed Roger’s back. “Go and have a lie down, love.”

Roger nestled against him for a moment. “I should...”

“You should go and lie down,” Crystal told him firmly. “You still feel ill, don’t you?”

Roger still felt nauseous and his head was aching. He nodded and wearily trailed towards their room. He should be cleaning out the well used basin he had puked into, he thought, or the splashes of vomit that had decorated the interior of the car despite his best efforts to avoid that.

He realised their bags were still in the car too as he splashed cold water on his face and rinsed his mouth out. He didn’t have the energy to fetch anything though and fell on top of the bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

He awakened to find Crystal gently stroking his hair. “Hey,” Crystal smiled at him, “Do you think you could keep down some of Phoebe’s soup?”

“What time is it?” Roger wondered. 

“You’ve only slept for an hour or so,” Crystal told him. 

Roger sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry to be so useless,” he muttered. 

“You’re not useless, babe,” Crystal assured him. “Come on downstairs and have some soup.”

Crystal had cleaned the car and washed out the basin and retrieved and unpacked their bags while Roger had been sleeping he discovered. He felt horribly guilty. “There’s no need to fret about it, Canary,” Crystal told him but he still felt bad. “You weren’t feeling well,” Crystal reminded him, “If I had been feeling ill you wouldn’t have expected me to do anything other than rest, would you?”

“That’s different...” Roger mumbled. 

“Well, I don’t see how,” Crystal shrugged. He set a plate of soup in front of Roger. “Try that,” he urged him. “You might feel better with some food inside you.” 

Roger obediently sipped some soup. It was nice – warming and soothing. He thought Crystal looked worried. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine,” Crystal told him. 

“You’re frowning,” Roger informed him. 

Crystal grinned. “I’m just worried about you,” he said, “You were so sick. And you seem a bit down.”

Roger considered this. “The sickness is tiresome,” he said, “But I’m okay apart from that. I mean, I liked visiting the others but this is home now. I just...I’d like to feel more useful. I will need to get a job.”

“You are useful,” Crystal told him. “But if you want a job then we can see what’s out there. What kind of thing did you have in mind?”

Roger sighed. “I don’t have much experience of anything,” he said. 

*

It was Phoebe who made the suggestion. “Why don’t you open up Grace’s shop and sell the remaining stock, Roger?” he said.

They were having dinner with Phoebe and Miami at their cottage. “It might be the wrong time of year for that,” Miami noted, “There aren’t many visitors at this time of year.”

“People always need birthday gifts and Christmas is coming up,” Phoebe argued. 

“Perhaps Crystal doesn’t want to open the shop,” Roger offered gently, glancing at Crystal. 

Crystal cleared his throat – he felt as if he had frozen when Phoebe had first mentioned the shop. “Um...That’s a very good idea,” he mumbled. He looked at Roger, “You might want to get your own stock in...Run the place...” He shrugged. “Or not...”

“We could see how it goes,” Roger suggested, “We could see how I do with the existing stock.”

*

“We don’t have to do this,” Roger said softly as Crystal struggled to control his breathing on the pavement outside the shop.

“Yes,” Crystal gasped, “We do. I do. Dom thinks it’s a good idea.”

“We don’t have to do this now,” Roger amended. 

“Yes,” Crystal repeated stubbornly, “Get it over with kind of thing – like ripping a plaster off.” He took a deep shuddery breath and lunged forward to open the door. Once they were inside he stood just to the right of the door hyperventilating. 

“Easy,” Roger cooed, “Just breathe...”

“Sorry,” Crystal mumbled. 

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Roger told him. He looked around. “Well, is there somewhere we can have a cup of tea?”

*

Roger enjoyed being in the shop. He liked chatting with customers and persuading them to buy things they might not have considered when they entered the shop.

There was a little community of shop-keepers in the town too and Roger was touched by how friendly and accepting they were of him. They gave him useful tips too.

After a couple of weeks Crystal had managed to go upstairs to the empty flat above the shop with Roger. He had only lasted a couple of minutes but he was trying to stay a little longer in the main room of the flat each day. He had shakily confessed to Roger that it might take a bit longer before he went in to the bathroom. “There’s no rush,” Roger had told him, “You’re doing really well.”

The weather grew colder and wetter. One sleety weekend in late November Phoebe and Miami helped Roger and Crystal clear out the flat leaving only essential furniture in place. “I’m proud of you,” Roger whispered to Crystal, giving him a hug and a kiss as he headed outside for a cigarette.

Crystal grunted in reply although he secretly felt a little warm glow at Roger’s words. “I still find it hard being in there,” he muttered.

“That’s completely understandable,” Roger told him.

Crystal wondered if it would ever get easier. He thought uneasily that he still had his grandmother’s house to clear out too. He mentioned this to Roger. “Maybe we could leave that one until spring,” Roger suggested.

Crystal nodded. “Yeah, there’s no rush, is there?” Miami had a key and checked to make sure everything was okay with the property. Crystal wasn’t sure why that house – where nothing tragic had happened – was an issue for him but it seemed to be. “I think I just felt overwhelmed by it all,” he said out loud.

“That’s understandable too,” Roger informed him solemnly, sliding his arm around Crystal. “We’ll get there,” he added. 

“Yeah,” Crystal bestowed a little kiss on Roger. “We will, won’t we?”

They were a team, he thought. The little voice in his head asked if they were like a miner and his canary and he mentally told it to fuck off. A more equal team, he thought. Hopefully they were less doomed too. He gave a little huff of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Roger asked. He grinned as Crystal told him what he had been thinking about. “The tragic death of the noble warning canary is no laughing matter,” he laughed. 

“I don’t think it was any picnic for the miners either,” Crystal pointed out. 

“We are a good team, though,” Roger agreed.

Crystal kissed him. “I’m glad you lot answered the advert,” he told Roger, “Although I had reservations at first you were all more useful than expected.”

“High praise indeed,” Roger laughed, “You were so grumpy when we arrived. I’m glad we civilised you!”

“I was perfectly civilised,” Crystal protested. 

“You were very rude,” Roger reminded him, “But our civilising presence has worked wonders!”

Crystal snorted. “I did not need civilising,” he sniffed, “especially not by a little savage like you!”

“Rude,” Roger sighed, “I can see I still have work to do!”

Crystal grinned, pressing his lips against Roger’s. “You’ll just have to stick around until you’ve perfected me, then,” he suggested. 

Roger heaved a mock sigh. “Why, that might take forever,” he breathed. 

“I certainly hope so,” Crystal murmured, kissing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thanks very much for reading! :)


End file.
